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La librera de El Cairo
Nadia Wassef siempre quiso ser librera. Junto con su hermana y su mejor amiga fundaron hace veinte años Diwan, una librería en su Cairo natal. Eran tres mujeres jóvenes, sin formación académica, sin experiencia y sin nada que perder. Por aquella época, no había aún librerías en Egipto. La cultura se hundía bajo la mala gestión de un gobierno corrupto y los libros se consideraban un lujo, no una necesidad.
La librera de El Cairo, con su ecléctico reparto de personajes entrañables, nos transporta a una ciudad que trasciende a su propia historia, y nos permite asistir a su lenta pero audaz transformación para alejarse de un sistema arcaico, misógino y corrupto. Como El edificio Yacobián, de Alaa Al Aswany, en su momento, este libro permite que sean los protagonistas y sus pequeñas historias los que construyan el alma de la capital de Egipto.
La librera de El Cairo, con su ecléctico reparto de personajes entrañables, nos transporta a una ciudad que trasciende a su propia historia, y nos permite asistir a su lenta pero audaz transformación para alejarse de un sistema arcaico, misógino y corrupto. Como El edificio Yacobián, de Alaa Al Aswany, en su momento, este libro permite que sean los protagonistas y sus pequeñas historias los que construyan el alma de la capital de Egipto.
256 pages, Paperback
First published October 5, 2021
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September 25, 2025
A true story, Nadia Wassef’s Chronicles of a Cairo Bookseller narrates how 3 women overcame tremendous challenges to run the first modern bookstore in the intellectually conservative environment of Egypt.
Unfamiliar with Egypt and Arab culture, reading this provided a fresh perspective and highlighted the region's mystique. These 3 women are intellectuals from the upper class who attended international schools in Egypt, avoiding mainstream education. They had maids, drivers, and early exposure to Western culture and open-mindedness, which drove their ambition to change Egyptian culture and society through their bookstore.
Indeed, it takes knowledge, background, money, and resources to be in a position to change society.
As a developing country, Egypt faces many political and economic issues. Egyptians are acutely aware that modern Egypt is still basking in the glory of its ancient civilization. Political chaos, economic backwardness, corruption, and sluggish national development make problem-solving incredibly difficult. Wassef shares her journey of running a bookstore amidst these challenges.
The bookstore had to tackle real-world issues like making a profit. They used attractive eco-friendly bags for marketing, which were spotted as far away as New York. The bookstore's café reminded me of the vector café in an old bookstore near my home - similar concepts.
Employees and customers alike could be thieves, so how to handle that? How to deal with prostitutes sitting in the café? The bookstore offered clean, free restrooms, which was an unprecedented experience for most Egyptian women, reflecting the lack of respect for women in Egyptian society.
Corruption and bribing officials were seen as effective solutions.
Choosing which books to import was another significant challenge. Bestsellers? Self-help books? Books related to Egyptian culture and tourism? Those massive cultural and art books I thought no one would buy were actually used by wealthy individuals to decorate their homes. Selecting books, their covers, and colors - all could elevate a homeowner's taste.
I also just know that Egyptians have a culture of giving books when visiting others' homes, which I find more meaningful than any other gift.
The protagonist's story is jarring - cursing, having children late in life, continuing to smoke and drink during pregnancy, and experiencing 2 divorces. Through her story, I learned that Egyptians previously had to travel abroad to buy imported books. Diwan Bookstore truly is a bookstore in the desert, an oasis in the desert.
In my country, we can easily buy various imported books at bookstores, yet my city is a cultural desert - quite ironic.
Although I consider this a readable memoir, the narrative is plain, the writing style average, and the story told lacks dramatic twists, though it is rich in knowledge. I hope everyone cherishes the opportunity to read freely.
2.4 / 5 stars
Unfamiliar with Egypt and Arab culture, reading this provided a fresh perspective and highlighted the region's mystique. These 3 women are intellectuals from the upper class who attended international schools in Egypt, avoiding mainstream education. They had maids, drivers, and early exposure to Western culture and open-mindedness, which drove their ambition to change Egyptian culture and society through their bookstore.
Indeed, it takes knowledge, background, money, and resources to be in a position to change society.
As a developing country, Egypt faces many political and economic issues. Egyptians are acutely aware that modern Egypt is still basking in the glory of its ancient civilization. Political chaos, economic backwardness, corruption, and sluggish national development make problem-solving incredibly difficult. Wassef shares her journey of running a bookstore amidst these challenges.
The bookstore had to tackle real-world issues like making a profit. They used attractive eco-friendly bags for marketing, which were spotted as far away as New York. The bookstore's café reminded me of the vector café in an old bookstore near my home - similar concepts.
Employees and customers alike could be thieves, so how to handle that? How to deal with prostitutes sitting in the café? The bookstore offered clean, free restrooms, which was an unprecedented experience for most Egyptian women, reflecting the lack of respect for women in Egyptian society.
Corruption and bribing officials were seen as effective solutions.
Choosing which books to import was another significant challenge. Bestsellers? Self-help books? Books related to Egyptian culture and tourism? Those massive cultural and art books I thought no one would buy were actually used by wealthy individuals to decorate their homes. Selecting books, their covers, and colors - all could elevate a homeowner's taste.
I also just know that Egyptians have a culture of giving books when visiting others' homes, which I find more meaningful than any other gift.
The protagonist's story is jarring - cursing, having children late in life, continuing to smoke and drink during pregnancy, and experiencing 2 divorces. Through her story, I learned that Egyptians previously had to travel abroad to buy imported books. Diwan Bookstore truly is a bookstore in the desert, an oasis in the desert.
In my country, we can easily buy various imported books at bookstores, yet my city is a cultural desert - quite ironic.
Although I consider this a readable memoir, the narrative is plain, the writing style average, and the story told lacks dramatic twists, though it is rich in knowledge. I hope everyone cherishes the opportunity to read freely.
2.4 / 5 stars
November 29, 2021
As a fellow Cairo dweller, I was so excited when I heard about this book. It was an interesting read, but I don't know how I feel about it.
I didn't know Diwan was established by women. That's super cool. It's even cooler that it's a passion project done by women who love reading and books.
I liked the chapter on self-help. I really get her point about these books not resonating with our culture most of the time. The Egyptian self-help isn't that great either, but she doesn't read in Arabic so I guess she wouldn't know.
I liked many things about this. The all-around experience of reading it was positive. I will recommend it to people.
However, some stuff about it irked me. They triggered emotional responses because of things that I felt were insensitive bourgeoisie rants.
Had I been a rich woman who has a driver and a team of people to pay my bribes and haggle for me, I would have seen myself here. Sadly, I'm not. (I totally wish I were, though. Paying bribes is a minefield.
Full disclosure: I have never been to Diwan. It's too expensive. The author doesn't really talk much about how ridiculously expensive books are in Egypt.
The whole book has a very "I'm too rich for this" vibe. I mean it's about a woman who started her own business in Zamalek. She doesn't read in Arabic because her Arabic isn't all that good, she talks about her helpers - servants, employees, people she buys stuff from- in a vaguely pitying way... "Oh, those poor public schoolers who live in unattractive places and can't read in 3 languages... Disgusting"
Honestly, my biggest problem with this book is the mimic woman vibe it gave off. It had nothing Egyptian about it. The everyday people were basically caricatures; kind but racist/sexist/traditional and stiff. No one was really fleshed out as a person except the author who was not keen on the country.
I get it. People are sexist, bureaucracy is a nightmare, and the cultural scene isn't that impressive. However, she wasn't living the normal life of an everyday person, which she barely acknowledges. She doesn't speak about the readers, she doesn't mention any Egyptian contemporary writers and the whole book feels like it was adapted to Egyptian culture instead of being written by an Egyptian person.
I didn't know Diwan was established by women. That's super cool. It's even cooler that it's a passion project done by women who love reading and books.
I liked the chapter on self-help. I really get her point about these books not resonating with our culture most of the time. The Egyptian self-help isn't that great either, but she doesn't read in Arabic so I guess she wouldn't know.
I liked many things about this. The all-around experience of reading it was positive. I will recommend it to people.
However, some stuff about it irked me. They triggered emotional responses because of things that I felt were insensitive bourgeoisie rants.
Had I been a rich woman who has a driver and a team of people to pay my bribes and haggle for me, I would have seen myself here. Sadly, I'm not. (I totally wish I were, though. Paying bribes is a minefield.
Full disclosure: I have never been to Diwan. It's too expensive. The author doesn't really talk much about how ridiculously expensive books are in Egypt.
The whole book has a very "I'm too rich for this" vibe. I mean it's about a woman who started her own business in Zamalek. She doesn't read in Arabic because her Arabic isn't all that good, she talks about her helpers - servants, employees, people she buys stuff from- in a vaguely pitying way... "Oh, those poor public schoolers who live in unattractive places and can't read in 3 languages... Disgusting"
Honestly, my biggest problem with this book is the mimic woman vibe it gave off. It had nothing Egyptian about it. The everyday people were basically caricatures; kind but racist/sexist/traditional and stiff. No one was really fleshed out as a person except the author who was not keen on the country.
I get it. People are sexist, bureaucracy is a nightmare, and the cultural scene isn't that impressive. However, she wasn't living the normal life of an everyday person, which she barely acknowledges. She doesn't speak about the readers, she doesn't mention any Egyptian contemporary writers and the whole book feels like it was adapted to Egyptian culture instead of being written by an Egyptian person.
March 19, 2023
A multifaceted memoir of one of the cofounders of the groundbreaking Cairo bookshop, Diwan. The author interweaves stories of running the store with personal memories and Egyptian history. I've never read a memoir quite like this!
Click here to hear more of my thoughts on this book (plus one other book by a bookseller) over on my Booktube channel, abookolive!
Click here to hear more of my thoughts on this book (plus one other book by a bookseller) over on my Booktube channel, abookolive!
September 30, 2021
girlbossed a little too close to the sun for me
July 30, 2023
There are reasons why there were no bookstores in Cairo (population 10 million) in 2002: illiteracy, poverty, the reading public divided by English, French or German to Arabic language preference, censorship and the general bureaucratic problems of running a business in a cleptocracy. Nadia Wassef, her sister Hind, and friend, Nihal, defied the odds and created not just one modern bookstore, but several strategically placed around Cairo.
In this short book Nadia Wassef covers a lot of ground. Besides the difficulties of starting a business she writes of her personal life (two “successful divorces”- two children – family and staff dynamics), the difficulties of being a woman in Cairo, and the inequalities she sees all around. There is some literary history covering the Egyptian aspects of the genre featured in the stores.
I appreciated this because I lived in Cairo for 9 months 1997-8 prior to its having a bookstore (and I looked for them, only finding one at the American University that was mostly texts).
Here are some observations from my short time in Cairo that relate to on her observations on founding and operating these book stores
.
• I often went to the Mogamma building (no elevators that I know of – A/C provided by giant open windows where papers could blow away or inadvertent people could fall from). Like Nadia, each time, I was sent from floor to floor, sometimes having to pay for the info (which was not always correct).
• I paid “baksheesh” (“a gift”) at the airport, several times, to get the same shipments of books for a school I administered. New books could arrive with pages torn out.
• I reported Egyptian male staff for beating female cleaning staff to be told “we are working on this” and they were not.
• I understand Nadia’s explosion when taunted about her pregnancy – while I walked Cairo with baggy slacks and long sleeved blouses – my hair was not covered – lots of cars honking and waving - a familiar taunt: “You me make baby!”
I think some of the low ratings for this book come from a western perspective. For instance, Diwan is a model employer. In the school I “administered” I saw American staff paid promptly with Egyptian staff waiting weeks for 1/10 the pay amount. I saw people fired for having a theft pinned on them - those doing the firing could be in on it… you never know. I saw maintenance and cleaning staff horribly abused. Phones would ring and ring and no one would answer. Given that so much of this was wed into the culture, there was no consensus for change.
I enjoyed every page of this book and salute the author for her patience and persistence. She clearly demonstrated the reason that there were no bookstores in Egypt. Any westerner who worked as an expat in Egypt will appreciate this book.
In this short book Nadia Wassef covers a lot of ground. Besides the difficulties of starting a business she writes of her personal life (two “successful divorces”- two children – family and staff dynamics), the difficulties of being a woman in Cairo, and the inequalities she sees all around. There is some literary history covering the Egyptian aspects of the genre featured in the stores.
I appreciated this because I lived in Cairo for 9 months 1997-8 prior to its having a bookstore (and I looked for them, only finding one at the American University that was mostly texts).
Here are some observations from my short time in Cairo that relate to on her observations on founding and operating these book stores
.
• I often went to the Mogamma building (no elevators that I know of – A/C provided by giant open windows where papers could blow away or inadvertent people could fall from). Like Nadia, each time, I was sent from floor to floor, sometimes having to pay for the info (which was not always correct).
• I paid “baksheesh” (“a gift”) at the airport, several times, to get the same shipments of books for a school I administered. New books could arrive with pages torn out.
• I reported Egyptian male staff for beating female cleaning staff to be told “we are working on this” and they were not.
• I understand Nadia’s explosion when taunted about her pregnancy – while I walked Cairo with baggy slacks and long sleeved blouses – my hair was not covered – lots of cars honking and waving - a familiar taunt: “You me make baby!”
I think some of the low ratings for this book come from a western perspective. For instance, Diwan is a model employer. In the school I “administered” I saw American staff paid promptly with Egyptian staff waiting weeks for 1/10 the pay amount. I saw people fired for having a theft pinned on them - those doing the firing could be in on it… you never know. I saw maintenance and cleaning staff horribly abused. Phones would ring and ring and no one would answer. Given that so much of this was wed into the culture, there was no consensus for change.
I enjoyed every page of this book and salute the author for her patience and persistence. She clearly demonstrated the reason that there were no bookstores in Egypt. Any westerner who worked as an expat in Egypt will appreciate this book.
December 19, 2021
Why would an Arab use the word F**k so many times in a book about knowledge, reading, books and Culture?
And not understand a coup when it happens!!!
And not understand a coup when it happens!!!
July 24, 2023
#retoegipcio2023 de @inquilinas_netherfield. Premisa “Ambientado en el Egipto Contemporáneo”.
Desde enero tenia reservado este libro para leerlo a mitad de año, cuando ya estuviera un poco cansada de leer para el #retoegipcio2023 tanto libro y novela sobre faraones, pirámides y arqueología. Y la verdad es que por ese motivo he agradecido tanto esta lectura. Y también por lo ligera y amena que me ha resultado.
En el año 2001, en la Isla de Zamalek (El Cairo) abrió sus puertas Diwan, la primera librería moderna de Egipto. De la mano de una de las tres mujeres que impulsaron el proyecto, Nadia Wassef, conoceremos como lo que empezó como un proyecto novedoso y diferente acabo convirtiéndose en una cadena con diez librerías por todo el país. Un camino lleno de perdidas, alegrías, decisiones difíciles y sacrificios para sus creadoras, que Nadia relata con sinceridad. Y que se entrelazara con la historia personal de la autora y con una mirada por la situación histórica, social y económica del Egipto actual y con una disquisición sobre lo que son los libros y el leer.
La verdad es que cogí este libro con cero expectativas, asumiendo tranquilamente que no me aportaría nada especial. Existía tanto la posibilidad de que me encantas como la posibilidad de que me aburriera soberanamente. Y debo decir que esa falta de expectativas ha sido en sí misma un punto a favor de esta lectura. “La Librera de El Cairo” es un libro corto y ágil que he devorado en poco más de un día, y que me ha entretenido mucho. Me ha gustado mucho el detalle de que cada capítulo trate de una parte concreta de la librería, a través de la cual se tratan diferentes cuestiones a lo largo de la obra.
Pero sobretodo, lo que me ha aportado esta lectura son muchas cosas que no pensaba o creía que fuera a encontrar cuando me decidí por leerlo. Pensaba, de una manera un tanto simplista y carente de miras (la verdad), que todo iba a centrarse en el nacimiento y desarrollo de la cadena de librerías Diwan, y que está historia se sazonaría alegremente con anécdotas y curiosidades de la experiencia como librera de la autora. Y si, eso es una parte muy importante de este relato, que he disfrutado tanto de leer.
Lo que no pensé en encontrarme fue que todo esto se uniese tanto a la historia personal de Wassef. Nada que objetar a eso, para algo ella lleva la batuta de este libro. Pero, nunca imaginé que todo esto se mezclaría con la evolución cultural e histórica de Egipto, con una mirada al panorama ideológico y social actual de esta nación sin perder de vista su historia y su herencia colonialista, cuyo peso es profusamente tratado en un capitulo. Y no voy a mentir, eso ha sido una de las cosas que más me ha agradado de esta lectura. De la historia moderna de Egipto solo conozco algunas pinceladas, así que me ha gustado mucho adentrarme en mayor profundidad de la mano de la autora y gracias a ella poder comprender todas las complejidades que hay en este país en la actualidad y todo lo que se esconde detrás de este tapiz, como se llego a la situación que Wassef narra, y conocer más de autores egipcios y de la historia literaria del país. Y no solo de Egipto en concreto, también sobre la cultura y el panorama literario en el mundo Arabe e islámico. Como occidental he valorado mucho esto, y he descubierto muchas cosas que no sabia y que me han parecido muy interesantes.
Y es que “La Librera de El Cairo” no es solo un canto a un proyecto concreto que, como bien señala la autora, acabo por convertirse en una entidad propia. Es un canto de amor hacia la cultura, las letras y el mundo del libro que se hace de una forma vivida y entrañable. Entre sus páginas he descubiertos no pocas curiosidades literarias y me he encontrado con ideas que me han hecho replantearme ciertas cuestiones literarias o incluso vitales. Y todo eso me ha parecido maravilloso. Porque para eso sirve leer, para descubrir contextos historias, con las que no tengas nada que ver, para plantearse las cosas y ahondar en tu propia forma de pensar. Para ampliar horizontes. Por poner un ejemplo, el último capitulo de la obra habla de los libros de autoayuda. Durante muchos años, yo he compartido los prejuicios hacia este tipo de literatura, y a través de la de construcción, que la autora hace en esas páginas de su relación con el género, yo también he aprendido a ser algo más benevolente con estos libros. Y esta lectura confirmado respecto a ellos una idea que ya tenía anteriormente, que la filosofía es una suerte de autoayuda que ayuda al ser humano a conocerse mejor mismo y a intentar ser mejor persona . Es por cosas de este estilo que esta lectura me ha resultado tan enriquecedora. Y también para conectar, desde la distancia del tiempo y el espacio, con gente que piense como tú y que aporte nuevas ideas a algo en lo que tu ya creías. Es algo que resulta precioso e incluso un poco consolador, y que me ha ayudado a conectar tanto con esta lectura. Y qué ha hecho que me haya sorprendido para bien.
Si hay algo que he valorado mucho de la autora: su sinceridad a la hora de retratarse a si misma. Reconoce sus defectos sin cortapisas y admite lo difícil que le resulto compaginar su labor como jefa de las librerías con la maternidad, lo fue para ella sus divorcios, y como es el ser mujer en una sociedad tan patriarcal y cerrada como la egipcia. No es una mujer fácil, ni como madre ni como jefa, y cuando es consciente de que algo lo ha hecho bien no tiene la falsa modestia de intentar esconder la satisfacción que le ha producido y el orgullo que le genera. Quizás eso haga que algún lector le resulte una narradora difícil de tragar, pero a mí me ha parecido un retrato personal tan natural y sincero, y por ello tan valiente, que no he podido evitar simpatizar con ella. Es verdad que a veces me ha parecido una señora un tanto soberbia, pero al mismo tiempo me ha gustado por lo cercana que ha hecho la experiencia lectora. Sus debilidades conviven con sus fortalezas, y eso es ser simplemente un ser real.
Además es que su propia experiencia humana ayuda a acercarse a otra cuestión que me ha parecido muy interesante. Y es que dentro de lo que es la sociedad egipcia ha tenido la gran suerte de poder criarse en un mundo económicamente desahogado y donde la educación no era el mismo sueño que si lo es para muchos de sus compatriotas. Wassef pertenece a la clase que ha recibido una educación prácticamente europea y que puede permitirse tener un chofer que la lleve a todas partes y le hagan los recados, una asistenta para limpiar su casa y el dinero para coger aviones que la lleven a Dubái o América . Y eso sirve para demostrarnos las diferencias económicas y sociales que conviven dentro del propio Egipto, y todo lo que eso conlleva dentro del país. No es lo mismo ir a un colegio europeo que a uno islámico. No es lo mismo que tu preocupación sea llegar a fin de mes que preocuparte de que los libros que lleguen al público lo hagan bien editados y sin censura. Incluso la lengua en que recibes tu educación dictara hasta qué punto te sientes identificado o cercano a tu país natal.
En definitiva, si quieres una lectura amena y que sorprenda, y que se lea en un suspiro “La Librera de El Cairo” es una buena opción. Es una obra con mucho contenido y que entretiene mucho, y por ello me ha sorprendido. No es una obrq perfecta y redonda, ni mucho menos. Al fin de al cabo, no deja de ser una autobiografía, y como tal a veces resulta muy sesgada. Trata temas que no a todo el mundo tienen porque interesarle y lo hace de una forma que, personalmente, me ha resultado un tanto irregular. De ahí ya habido momentos en los que me haya aburrido un poquito lo que tenía delante. Pero al mismo tiempo es una carta de amor a la exótica y burbujeante ciudad de El Cairo y a un Egipto que, hoy por hoy, resulta hostil para buena parte de sus habitantes. Al libro y a la literatura. A la familia. .”Siempre imaginé que el Paraíso sería algún tipo de biblioteca” dijo acertadamente ese genio de las letras que fue Jorge Luis Borges. Y muchas veces los paraísos se los tiene que construir uno en la tierra. Y eso fue Diwan, un mundo que fue y aún es un oasis de paz y cultura en un panorama bibliográfico desolador, un ente hermoso que creció hasta ser una bestia mastodóntica, que dio tanto como quito, pero que hoy por hoy sigue en pie contra viento y marea pese a todo. Este libro es también una carta de amor hacia esta librería y todo lo que supuso.
Desde enero tenia reservado este libro para leerlo a mitad de año, cuando ya estuviera un poco cansada de leer para el #retoegipcio2023 tanto libro y novela sobre faraones, pirámides y arqueología. Y la verdad es que por ese motivo he agradecido tanto esta lectura. Y también por lo ligera y amena que me ha resultado.
En el año 2001, en la Isla de Zamalek (El Cairo) abrió sus puertas Diwan, la primera librería moderna de Egipto. De la mano de una de las tres mujeres que impulsaron el proyecto, Nadia Wassef, conoceremos como lo que empezó como un proyecto novedoso y diferente acabo convirtiéndose en una cadena con diez librerías por todo el país. Un camino lleno de perdidas, alegrías, decisiones difíciles y sacrificios para sus creadoras, que Nadia relata con sinceridad. Y que se entrelazara con la historia personal de la autora y con una mirada por la situación histórica, social y económica del Egipto actual y con una disquisición sobre lo que son los libros y el leer.
La verdad es que cogí este libro con cero expectativas, asumiendo tranquilamente que no me aportaría nada especial. Existía tanto la posibilidad de que me encantas como la posibilidad de que me aburriera soberanamente. Y debo decir que esa falta de expectativas ha sido en sí misma un punto a favor de esta lectura. “La Librera de El Cairo” es un libro corto y ágil que he devorado en poco más de un día, y que me ha entretenido mucho. Me ha gustado mucho el detalle de que cada capítulo trate de una parte concreta de la librería, a través de la cual se tratan diferentes cuestiones a lo largo de la obra.
Pero sobretodo, lo que me ha aportado esta lectura son muchas cosas que no pensaba o creía que fuera a encontrar cuando me decidí por leerlo. Pensaba, de una manera un tanto simplista y carente de miras (la verdad), que todo iba a centrarse en el nacimiento y desarrollo de la cadena de librerías Diwan, y que está historia se sazonaría alegremente con anécdotas y curiosidades de la experiencia como librera de la autora. Y si, eso es una parte muy importante de este relato, que he disfrutado tanto de leer.
Lo que no pensé en encontrarme fue que todo esto se uniese tanto a la historia personal de Wassef. Nada que objetar a eso, para algo ella lleva la batuta de este libro. Pero, nunca imaginé que todo esto se mezclaría con la evolución cultural e histórica de Egipto, con una mirada al panorama ideológico y social actual de esta nación sin perder de vista su historia y su herencia colonialista, cuyo peso es profusamente tratado en un capitulo. Y no voy a mentir, eso ha sido una de las cosas que más me ha agradado de esta lectura. De la historia moderna de Egipto solo conozco algunas pinceladas, así que me ha gustado mucho adentrarme en mayor profundidad de la mano de la autora y gracias a ella poder comprender todas las complejidades que hay en este país en la actualidad y todo lo que se esconde detrás de este tapiz, como se llego a la situación que Wassef narra, y conocer más de autores egipcios y de la historia literaria del país. Y no solo de Egipto en concreto, también sobre la cultura y el panorama literario en el mundo Arabe e islámico. Como occidental he valorado mucho esto, y he descubierto muchas cosas que no sabia y que me han parecido muy interesantes.
Y es que “La Librera de El Cairo” no es solo un canto a un proyecto concreto que, como bien señala la autora, acabo por convertirse en una entidad propia. Es un canto de amor hacia la cultura, las letras y el mundo del libro que se hace de una forma vivida y entrañable. Entre sus páginas he descubiertos no pocas curiosidades literarias y me he encontrado con ideas que me han hecho replantearme ciertas cuestiones literarias o incluso vitales. Y todo eso me ha parecido maravilloso. Porque para eso sirve leer, para descubrir contextos historias, con las que no tengas nada que ver, para plantearse las cosas y ahondar en tu propia forma de pensar. Para ampliar horizontes. Por poner un ejemplo, el último capitulo de la obra habla de los libros de autoayuda. Durante muchos años, yo he compartido los prejuicios hacia este tipo de literatura, y a través de la de construcción, que la autora hace en esas páginas de su relación con el género, yo también he aprendido a ser algo más benevolente con estos libros. Y esta lectura confirmado respecto a ellos una idea que ya tenía anteriormente, que la filosofía es una suerte de autoayuda que ayuda al ser humano a conocerse mejor mismo y a intentar ser mejor persona . Es por cosas de este estilo que esta lectura me ha resultado tan enriquecedora. Y también para conectar, desde la distancia del tiempo y el espacio, con gente que piense como tú y que aporte nuevas ideas a algo en lo que tu ya creías. Es algo que resulta precioso e incluso un poco consolador, y que me ha ayudado a conectar tanto con esta lectura. Y qué ha hecho que me haya sorprendido para bien.
Si hay algo que he valorado mucho de la autora: su sinceridad a la hora de retratarse a si misma. Reconoce sus defectos sin cortapisas y admite lo difícil que le resulto compaginar su labor como jefa de las librerías con la maternidad, lo fue para ella sus divorcios, y como es el ser mujer en una sociedad tan patriarcal y cerrada como la egipcia. No es una mujer fácil, ni como madre ni como jefa, y cuando es consciente de que algo lo ha hecho bien no tiene la falsa modestia de intentar esconder la satisfacción que le ha producido y el orgullo que le genera. Quizás eso haga que algún lector le resulte una narradora difícil de tragar, pero a mí me ha parecido un retrato personal tan natural y sincero, y por ello tan valiente, que no he podido evitar simpatizar con ella. Es verdad que a veces me ha parecido una señora un tanto soberbia, pero al mismo tiempo me ha gustado por lo cercana que ha hecho la experiencia lectora. Sus debilidades conviven con sus fortalezas, y eso es ser simplemente un ser real.
Además es que su propia experiencia humana ayuda a acercarse a otra cuestión que me ha parecido muy interesante. Y es que dentro de lo que es la sociedad egipcia ha tenido la gran suerte de poder criarse en un mundo económicamente desahogado y donde la educación no era el mismo sueño que si lo es para muchos de sus compatriotas. Wassef pertenece a la clase que ha recibido una educación prácticamente europea y que puede permitirse tener un chofer que la lleve a todas partes y le hagan los recados, una asistenta para limpiar su casa y el dinero para coger aviones que la lleven a Dubái o América . Y eso sirve para demostrarnos las diferencias económicas y sociales que conviven dentro del propio Egipto, y todo lo que eso conlleva dentro del país. No es lo mismo ir a un colegio europeo que a uno islámico. No es lo mismo que tu preocupación sea llegar a fin de mes que preocuparte de que los libros que lleguen al público lo hagan bien editados y sin censura. Incluso la lengua en que recibes tu educación dictara hasta qué punto te sientes identificado o cercano a tu país natal.
En definitiva, si quieres una lectura amena y que sorprenda, y que se lea en un suspiro “La Librera de El Cairo” es una buena opción. Es una obra con mucho contenido y que entretiene mucho, y por ello me ha sorprendido. No es una obrq perfecta y redonda, ni mucho menos. Al fin de al cabo, no deja de ser una autobiografía, y como tal a veces resulta muy sesgada. Trata temas que no a todo el mundo tienen porque interesarle y lo hace de una forma que, personalmente, me ha resultado un tanto irregular. De ahí ya habido momentos en los que me haya aburrido un poquito lo que tenía delante. Pero al mismo tiempo es una carta de amor a la exótica y burbujeante ciudad de El Cairo y a un Egipto que, hoy por hoy, resulta hostil para buena parte de sus habitantes. Al libro y a la literatura. A la familia. .”Siempre imaginé que el Paraíso sería algún tipo de biblioteca” dijo acertadamente ese genio de las letras que fue Jorge Luis Borges. Y muchas veces los paraísos se los tiene que construir uno en la tierra. Y eso fue Diwan, un mundo que fue y aún es un oasis de paz y cultura en un panorama bibliográfico desolador, un ente hermoso que creció hasta ser una bestia mastodóntica, que dio tanto como quito, pero que hoy por hoy sigue en pie contra viento y marea pese a todo. Este libro es también una carta de amor hacia esta librería y todo lo que supuso.
February 15, 2024
I feel a bit mixed about this. I enjoyed certain chapters and really appreciated Wassef's inclusion of historical, religious, governmental and cultural context when discussing a lot of what she considers modern problems/issues in Egypt. I think that background information was particularly helpful to people (like me) who aren't so familiar with Egypt's history. The feat of founding a successful bookstore chain as a group of women is an empowering and important story, and I found it quite moving how honest Wassef was about her struggles balancing her career ambitions as a woman within an oftentimes straight up misogynistic framework. That being said, parts felt like they dragged on for far too long or felt a little too self-serving. But really, the way she talks about her employees and 'lower class' people was really uncomfortable. She clearly views herself as distinct from, or I'd even argue as better than, them. Discussing all the discrimination you faced as a female entrepreneur, only to go on to say that they sewed up all the pockets for employee uniforms to prevent "temptation", oof how tone deaf. I lose all sympathy for you when your mission for empowerment only extends to those within your social class.
All in all, the story of Diwan is an important one and this was a well-contextualized memoir of its origins. However, could do with a bit of editing, and the author herself left me with a bitter taste in my mouth.
All in all, the story of Diwan is an important one and this was a well-contextualized memoir of its origins. However, could do with a bit of editing, and the author herself left me with a bitter taste in my mouth.
October 15, 2021
For me, who reads to escape, or learn some thing, the book has to have a likable character. For some reason I found the main character or rather person telling the story because this is non-fiction dislikable. I like what she created, and reading of her experiences was interesting, but I didn't like a lot of the things that she did or how she treated people. It could be I am reading the book with the wrong lens, or I don't understand Cairo and how things work there. But human beings are also human beings, and as a manager I thought she could have treated people better. Also I agree with another reviewer: the way she used swearwords was more for shock value I think and was unnecessary. Don't get me wrong, I swear all the time. But it was just distasteful in this instance.
September 22, 2022
Волим да читам књиге о књигама, књижарама, личним библиотекама, читалачком искуству итд. тако да ми се и ова књига нашла на радару. Посебно је занимљива чињеница да је реч о Египћанки која је у Каиру основала ланац књижара у којој су се често продавале и неке не баш подобне књиге.
Ипак, ово је у суштини више прича једне пословне жене о комерцијалном успеху. Притом, она је припадник богаташке елите, образована у приватним школама на страним језицима, што све доводи до тога да је у потпуности одвојена од реалног живота и проблема са којима се сусрећу њени сународници. А и ако јесте свесна политичких и друштвених дешавања, то је све салонски активизам. Ауторка ће се овде открити као један потпуни сноб и тиранин према својим запосленима, према којима гаји однос са дистанцом. Своје возаче, кућне помоћнице, али и раднике у књижарама она суштински доживљава као људе ниже класе, које треба „цивилизовати“ (само један детаљ: џепови на униформама запослених у књижарама су зашивени, како би они одолели искушењу да нешто украду (?!)). Египатска култура јој је такође далека и на њу гледа очима западњака, па ни ту нема пуно аутентичности.
Испада да је ово једна књига којој ја ипак нисам циљна публика. Уз то, сасвим просечно је написана. Али и то је у реду, сигуран сам да би се многима овакво штиво допало.
Ипак, ово је у суштини више прича једне пословне жене о комерцијалном успеху. Притом, она је припадник богаташке елите, образована у приватним школама на страним језицима, што све доводи до тога да је у потпуности одвојена од реалног живота и проблема са којима се сусрећу њени сународници. А и ако јесте свесна политичких и друштвених дешавања, то је све салонски активизам. Ауторка ће се овде открити као један потпуни сноб и тиранин према својим запосленима, према којима гаји однос са дистанцом. Своје возаче, кућне помоћнице, али и раднике у књижарама она суштински доживљава као људе ниже класе, које треба „цивилизовати“ (само један детаљ: џепови на униформама запослених у књижарама су зашивени, како би они одолели искушењу да нешто украду (?!)). Египатска култура јој је такође далека и на њу гледа очима западњака, па ни ту нема пуно аутентичности.
Испада да је ово једна књига којој ја ипак нисам циљна публика. Уз то, сасвим просечно је написана. Али и то је у реду, сигуран сам да би се многима овакво штиво допало.
November 4, 2021
Inspiring, funny and beautiful.
August 31, 2022
Puedo resumir mi experiencia con este libro así: “no era lo que esperaba y me ha dado lo que no esperaba” jajaja.
Lo que esperaba: una historia romántica sobre la difícil creación de la primera librería independiente de El Cairo por una mujer en una sociedad de hombres y censura.
Lo que es: la vida de una mujer de clase media-alta (con chofer, niñera, limpiadora del hogar…) con educación prácticamente europea (colegio británico, estudios en literatura, habla inglés y francés pero apenas lee árabe) que empieza un negocio con socias y cómo su dedicación y ambición por abrir más tiendas para ser una cadena hacen que no atienda su vida familiar y nos cuente sus divorcios y problemas con la maternidad.
Lo que me ha dado: muy interesante el contexto… nos habla de lo distintas que son las personas que conviven en el país y de la inestabilidad política. Aunque habla muchísimo de libros best seller europeos y americanos (que era de lo que se encargaba ella en el negocio) hay una parte en la que nos habla de autores egipcios que me ha interesado mucho, aunque es muy pequeña.
Lo que no esperaba: el último capítulo está dedicado a los libros de autoayuda y cómo ella pasa de negarse a considerarlos literatura desde una mirada snob a revisar la historia de los textos de autoayuda (el primero es del Antiguo Egipto), cómo se relacionan con la etapa social que se vive la sociedad en cada momento y su función en la vida de las personas.
La autora, que es quien nos cuenta en primera persona su experiencia, no me ha caído muy bien jajaja pero bueno, con sus más y sus menos siento que ha merecido la pena leerlo porque he sacado cosillas interesantes y ahora tengo interés en leer más sobre la historia más reciente de Egipto y sobre la cultura y literatura árabe.
(3.5/5) ⭐️⭐️⭐️ ¡me ha gustado!
Lo que esperaba: una historia romántica sobre la difícil creación de la primera librería independiente de El Cairo por una mujer en una sociedad de hombres y censura.
Lo que es: la vida de una mujer de clase media-alta (con chofer, niñera, limpiadora del hogar…) con educación prácticamente europea (colegio británico, estudios en literatura, habla inglés y francés pero apenas lee árabe) que empieza un negocio con socias y cómo su dedicación y ambición por abrir más tiendas para ser una cadena hacen que no atienda su vida familiar y nos cuente sus divorcios y problemas con la maternidad.
Lo que me ha dado: muy interesante el contexto… nos habla de lo distintas que son las personas que conviven en el país y de la inestabilidad política. Aunque habla muchísimo de libros best seller europeos y americanos (que era de lo que se encargaba ella en el negocio) hay una parte en la que nos habla de autores egipcios que me ha interesado mucho, aunque es muy pequeña.
Lo que no esperaba: el último capítulo está dedicado a los libros de autoayuda y cómo ella pasa de negarse a considerarlos literatura desde una mirada snob a revisar la historia de los textos de autoayuda (el primero es del Antiguo Egipto), cómo se relacionan con la etapa social que se vive la sociedad en cada momento y su función en la vida de las personas.
La autora, que es quien nos cuenta en primera persona su experiencia, no me ha caído muy bien jajaja pero bueno, con sus más y sus menos siento que ha merecido la pena leerlo porque he sacado cosillas interesantes y ahora tengo interés en leer más sobre la historia más reciente de Egipto y sobre la cultura y literatura árabe.
(3.5/5) ⭐️⭐️⭐️ ¡me ha gustado!
June 9, 2022
This was an unfortunate one. It was a relief to finish after forcing myself to do so.
Why?
For a book about a bookstore set in an ancient country like Egypt, it lacks ANY sense of the magic of story-telling that the title and cover suggest.
It’s very dry. Very flat. Diwan itself certainly doesn’t feel like a character- and the author repeatedly insists that the bookstore is a person, basically her child- BUT recounting of sales/location/book title failures and endless staffing problems does not give Diwan any sense of presence or life.
Nadia Wassef comes across as aggressive/ hostile, defensive, arrogant, elitist and bitter and she paints Egypt as a generic, chaotic, corrupt and misogynistic country. There’s no joy in her country, culture or history.
Why?
For a book about a bookstore set in an ancient country like Egypt, it lacks ANY sense of the magic of story-telling that the title and cover suggest.
It’s very dry. Very flat. Diwan itself certainly doesn’t feel like a character- and the author repeatedly insists that the bookstore is a person, basically her child- BUT recounting of sales/location/book title failures and endless staffing problems does not give Diwan any sense of presence or life.
Nadia Wassef comes across as aggressive/ hostile, defensive, arrogant, elitist and bitter and she paints Egypt as a generic, chaotic, corrupt and misogynistic country. There’s no joy in her country, culture or history.
October 20, 2021
In 2002, with her friend and sister, Nadia Wassef opened Cairo's first female-owned bookstore chain, Diwan, which is not dissimilar to America's Barnes & Noble. Wassef is proud of this feat, and rightfully so — she and her business partners carved out a Third Space for women in Egypt's traditional patriarchy and revolutionary society. But her narration is often crass, self-righteous, and demeaning to her staff and colleagues (whom she surveilled), distracting the reader from the store's external success.
tl;dr: i'm glad i didn't work there
tl;dr: i'm glad i didn't work there
December 17, 2022
interesting book about a woman setting up a bookstore in Cairo and her tales of running it and her experiences. did have some problems with her writing style
November 2, 2025
Idėja patiko - pasakoti apie Egiptą pagal tai, kokios tematikos skyriai atsirado knygyne. Be to, trys moterys, sukūrusios verslą (tai yra tikra istorija) tokioje šalyje, kurioje vienintelis moters darbas yra vaikų auginimas ir buvimas namuose?? Važiuojam!
Bet papasakoti viską TAIP padrikai ir nuobodžiai tikrai reikia talento. Nekalbant jau apie tai, kad visas tekstas persmelktas nelabai pagrįstos arogancijos, žiūrėjimo į kitus iš aukšto, savęs įterpimo į absoliučiai visas pasaulio situacijas - pasakojimo tonas toks, kad „ponia Diwan“ yra atgrasi nuo pat pirmųjų puslapių, o bėgant metams viskas dar ir blogėja. Jos taikyti vadybiniai metodai mažų mažiausiai kelia įtarimą, o knyga, pristatyta kaip „meilės laiškas knygynui“ į tokį net nėra panaši.
Labai blogai. Pabaigiau tik dėl to, kad reikėjo knygų klubui, ir noriu kuo greičiau pamiršti.
Bet papasakoti viską TAIP padrikai ir nuobodžiai tikrai reikia talento. Nekalbant jau apie tai, kad visas tekstas persmelktas nelabai pagrįstos arogancijos, žiūrėjimo į kitus iš aukšto, savęs įterpimo į absoliučiai visas pasaulio situacijas - pasakojimo tonas toks, kad „ponia Diwan“ yra atgrasi nuo pat pirmųjų puslapių, o bėgant metams viskas dar ir blogėja. Jos taikyti vadybiniai metodai mažų mažiausiai kelia įtarimą, o knyga, pristatyta kaip „meilės laiškas knygynui“ į tokį net nėra panaši.
Labai blogai. Pabaigiau tik dėl to, kad reikėjo knygų klubui, ir noriu kuo greičiau pamiršti.
May 11, 2022
I wouldn’t have completed this book if it wasn’t my book club selection. The author who claims to be educated and reads a lot apparently doesn’t have a large enough vocabulary to replace her constant use of the “F” bomb with a less offensive word. She treats everyone with disdain and is verbally abusive to her friends, her children and basically everyone who is in her life. A very disagreeable person.
My most charitable statement would be her honesty with no apologies for her awful behavior.
My most charitable statement would be her honesty with no apologies for her awful behavior.
May 16, 2022
“Against all odds, we had proven to our doubters and detractors that a modern bookstore could survive in Egypt … Though Diwan was not a huge financial success, it was a moral victory, an experiment in marketing, and a mastery of the will.” These are the words of Nadia Wassef, who, along with her sister, Hind, came up with the idea for a modern bookstore in Cairo. Sharing dinner with friends, several were taken with the idea, and three more people (Ziad, Ali and Nihal) became part of this business adventure. The store called Diwan began in 2002. What began as one store in Cairo, expanded to more across Egypt. Starting an independent bookstore is no easy task, but doing so in modern Egypt presented more than the usual challenges, especially one opened by women, who had no business degrees or business plans, but did have a lot of moxie, determination and drive.
The three women bookstore founders faced more deterrents and complications in Cairo and in Egypt than women in other parts of the world. However, there are profound similarities about how women think they should be regarded, mostly by men, and also by other women, in order to be taken seriously in the world of business. There is one hilarious, touching and scathing event. It is Nadia's reaction to it, with which many women of various ages will indentify. On the street, outside Diwan, Nadia is heavily pregnant with her second child, and feels the intense gaze of a very young man. As she removes an earphone to better hear what he has to say, which is very personal and raw, she recounts how she felt, “Blood rushed to my ears. My vision faded to pulsating red blotches. All I could feel was heat. I mustered as much force as my crippling rage would permit and yelled.” And she returned, in kind, with comments more overt than he or she could have imagined. "Everyone was suspended in time, speechless." Gaining back some composure and calm, Nadia berates herself for being "a foul-mouthed wreck" and losing her decorum in front of her staff and anyone else who was in the store, or on the street. Later that day, she meets with an old friend, regaling her with the details of the incident and how embarrassed Nadia felt. The friend erupts in bursts of laughter, and says, "For calling him out. Do you know how many times I've been harassed, and then told by well-meaning friends and family that responding would be unladylike? Women need to talk back." So Nadia, a businesswoman, who had been treated horrendously, and reacted, learned the following, "Curse words were like an arsenal of nuclear weapons: when everyone knows you have them, you don't need to use them."
Nadia Wassef is a modern woman, who has lived in the West, grown up in Cairo among forward-thinking relatives and friends. By opening this bookstore she had dreams and aspirations for her customers, and they responded positively to her efforts. Her book is rich with references to ancient and modern writers. There is her realization that many times, in order to stay solvent and in business, a bookseller must give the public what they want, even when the bookseller has disdain for particular writers and their books. She also learns about the personal assets her employees have, and where they excel, and where they differ from others.
Opening a bookstore might be a dream, but managing it can be a nightmare. There are traditions and practices everywhere, formal and informal. Different events required her to deal with the convoluted bureaucracy of governmental agencies, which have their own customs and mores that are not always apparent. In that way, large governmental agencies are alike, everywhere in the world. She confronts censorship, sometimes about an unlikely book: an imported, modern cookbook with a suspicious title; an ancient work, One thousand and one nights, whose rocky road of historical and international censoring is neatly covered; classical Egyptian works that have had their own challenges over the centuries. There are complaints from patrons, who have esteemed positions and degrees, who often tell the staff, and Nadia in particular, that they do not know what they are doing: the books they sell; the way they are displayed; the pricing, and on and on. There are some painful, hard, cold realities that Nadia faces, working with friends she had known for years, and with whom a working relationship became impossible. There was political turmoil, upheaval, protests and changes in Egyptian leadership. Despite all of this, Diwan exists, with a marvelous website, and as Nadia Wassef says, "Diwan still stands. On March 8, 2022, the Zamalek store turns twenty."
Reviewed by Sheryn Morris, Librarian, Literature & Fiction
The three women bookstore founders faced more deterrents and complications in Cairo and in Egypt than women in other parts of the world. However, there are profound similarities about how women think they should be regarded, mostly by men, and also by other women, in order to be taken seriously in the world of business. There is one hilarious, touching and scathing event. It is Nadia's reaction to it, with which many women of various ages will indentify. On the street, outside Diwan, Nadia is heavily pregnant with her second child, and feels the intense gaze of a very young man. As she removes an earphone to better hear what he has to say, which is very personal and raw, she recounts how she felt, “Blood rushed to my ears. My vision faded to pulsating red blotches. All I could feel was heat. I mustered as much force as my crippling rage would permit and yelled.” And she returned, in kind, with comments more overt than he or she could have imagined. "Everyone was suspended in time, speechless." Gaining back some composure and calm, Nadia berates herself for being "a foul-mouthed wreck" and losing her decorum in front of her staff and anyone else who was in the store, or on the street. Later that day, she meets with an old friend, regaling her with the details of the incident and how embarrassed Nadia felt. The friend erupts in bursts of laughter, and says, "For calling him out. Do you know how many times I've been harassed, and then told by well-meaning friends and family that responding would be unladylike? Women need to talk back." So Nadia, a businesswoman, who had been treated horrendously, and reacted, learned the following, "Curse words were like an arsenal of nuclear weapons: when everyone knows you have them, you don't need to use them."
Nadia Wassef is a modern woman, who has lived in the West, grown up in Cairo among forward-thinking relatives and friends. By opening this bookstore she had dreams and aspirations for her customers, and they responded positively to her efforts. Her book is rich with references to ancient and modern writers. There is her realization that many times, in order to stay solvent and in business, a bookseller must give the public what they want, even when the bookseller has disdain for particular writers and their books. She also learns about the personal assets her employees have, and where they excel, and where they differ from others.
Opening a bookstore might be a dream, but managing it can be a nightmare. There are traditions and practices everywhere, formal and informal. Different events required her to deal with the convoluted bureaucracy of governmental agencies, which have their own customs and mores that are not always apparent. In that way, large governmental agencies are alike, everywhere in the world. She confronts censorship, sometimes about an unlikely book: an imported, modern cookbook with a suspicious title; an ancient work, One thousand and one nights, whose rocky road of historical and international censoring is neatly covered; classical Egyptian works that have had their own challenges over the centuries. There are complaints from patrons, who have esteemed positions and degrees, who often tell the staff, and Nadia in particular, that they do not know what they are doing: the books they sell; the way they are displayed; the pricing, and on and on. There are some painful, hard, cold realities that Nadia faces, working with friends she had known for years, and with whom a working relationship became impossible. There was political turmoil, upheaval, protests and changes in Egyptian leadership. Despite all of this, Diwan exists, with a marvelous website, and as Nadia Wassef says, "Diwan still stands. On March 8, 2022, the Zamalek store turns twenty."
Reviewed by Sheryn Morris, Librarian, Literature & Fiction
October 2, 2022
Paėmiau į rankas tikėdamasi kažko egzotiško, kažko knygiško ir galbūt kažko grožinio. O visgi tai tikra istorija apie moterį, kuri su seserimi ir drauge įkūrė Kaire pirmą privatų knygyną. Ir apie šio knygyno gyvenimą. Mane nustebino tai, ką radau šioje knygoje ir tai, ko aš nežinojau. Apie Egipto civilizaciją, senąją istorija žinome. O apie naujesnę, bent aš, nelabai. Tai buvo išskirtinė proga pažinti Egiptą, Kairą iš vidaus, moters, augusios ir gyvenusios tokioje kultūroje, akimis. Apie iššūkius, laukiančius moters. Apie sunkumus ir jų įveikimą, temas, tokias artimas daugeliui. Vertinu tai kaip puikią knygą ir skatinu suteikti jai šansą.
September 4, 2023
There are so many emotions and thoughts between the covers, perfectly fitting coming from a founder of Diwan bookstore in Cairo who has such a strong character.
I loved how the chapters were divided according to the genres that can be found in Diwan (except the first chapter on the cafe). The best part was on how each section was populated with titles meant to entice Egyptian readers. I also enjoyed the ongoing banters between her and the customers, and the intricacies of dealing with the staff.
Although I did not agree with the author's opinion on certain things, her storytelling power and depth of thoughts painted the memoir well. Her takes on women, especially working women and motherhood, were relatable to my situations and inner thoughts at some juncture.
Cairo seemed very different after reading the book, not merely the highly held seat of Islamic learning I used to picture before, but a real city with endless urban issues just like any cities in the world.
I loved how the chapters were divided according to the genres that can be found in Diwan (except the first chapter on the cafe). The best part was on how each section was populated with titles meant to entice Egyptian readers. I also enjoyed the ongoing banters between her and the customers, and the intricacies of dealing with the staff.
Although I did not agree with the author's opinion on certain things, her storytelling power and depth of thoughts painted the memoir well. Her takes on women, especially working women and motherhood, were relatable to my situations and inner thoughts at some juncture.
Cairo seemed very different after reading the book, not merely the highly held seat of Islamic learning I used to picture before, but a real city with endless urban issues just like any cities in the world.
April 21, 2022
Zamolila bih vas da na sekund zatvorite oči i zamislite društvo u kom muškarac odbija da se rukuje sa ženom samo zato što je žena; društvo u kom je nezamislivo da žena bude nadređena suprotnom polu i društvo u kom se svaki vid telesnog i duhovnog uživanja (poput onog u „Hiljadu i jednoj noći“) bezrezervno cenzuriše. E sad, zamislite grupu prijatelja, predvođenu od strane tri žene - Nadijom, Hind i Nihal, da bez ikakvog iskustva, 2002. godine otvori prvu nezavisnu knjižaru u jednom takvom okruženju – u Kairu.
„Letopis jedne knjižarke u Kairu“, stoga, predstavlja memoare jedne od njih – Nadije Vasif, koja je baš poput svojih koleginica, napustila nametnute joj fiksne dimenzije i odbila da se smesti u okvire kalupa izvajanog od strane društva kojim upravljaju muškarci.
Kroz poglavlja nazvana po različitim sekcijama knjižare Divan, Nadija Vasif, kontekstom knjiga koje je sretala na svom čitalačko-preduzetničkom putu, iznosi svoje stavove o raznim gorućim temama – politici, polnoj diskriminaciji, razvodu, porodičnim odnosima, cenzuri.
Fragmentima iz Nadijinog života, stičemo uvid u realno stanje egipatskog društva i u to koliki uticaj je kolonijalizam ostavio na njegove pojedince. Stoga, izbor knjiga na policama knjižare Divan, umnogome prikazuje i domete širenja suverene vlasti Francuske i Velike Britanije na egipatskoj teritoriji, a književnost, kao i uvek, biva samo jedna od oblasti u kojoj je taj uticaj veoma opipljiv.
Knjige sa kojima se poistovećujem, za mene predstavljaju nešto što čuvam na posebnim, tome namenjenim policama kućne biblioteke. Nadijina opsednutost kontrolom (na kraju knjige se zahvaljuje što su joj konstantno omogućavali uvid u prevod našeg izdanja), perfekcionizam, otpor prema ukalupljenostima, tačnost, direktnost, preciznost i vrlo česte predrasude prema određenim temama, osobine su koje, bez preteranog razmišljanja, pripisujem i svojoj ličnosti.
Stoga, Nadijin otpor prema knjigama iz žanra samopomoći i stav da su ovi naslovi nalik čipsu jer ne zahtevaju nikakav trud da bi se u njima uživalo, nešto je što i sama promovišem. Međutim, njen prvi suprug, komentarišući ovaj naslov, istakao je kako je ona napisala sopstvenu knjigu samopomoći, i ja ću se sa tim apsolutno složiti i dodati da je ovo jedina vrsta samopomoći koju ja prihvatam. Reč je o samopomoći nimalo nalik čipsu, iz razloga što se ono najvažnije što je Nadija htela da iskaže svojim memoarima, krije između redova, i nije servirano na švedskom stolu tako da svako može da se posluži ponuđenim specijalitetima.
S obzirom na to da naslov ovih memoara može izazvati zabunu kod čitalaca u pogledu njegove sadržine, iskoristiću priliku da ga preformulišem kao „Memoari jedne knjižarke u Kairu ili kako je to biti žena preduzetnica (i opstati u svom poslu) u društvu kojim upravljaju muškarci“.
Za kraj, dodala bih još i to da je Nadija Vasif 2014, 2015. i 2016. godine svrstana u Forbsovu listu „Dvesta najmoćnijih žena Bliskog istoka“, kao i to da su za dobru knjigu potrebni kvalitet, elokventnost pisca i elokventnost prevodioca, a „Letopis jedne knjižarke u Kairu“ definitivno je knjiga koja sve navedeno poseduje.
„Letopis jedne knjižarke u Kairu“, stoga, predstavlja memoare jedne od njih – Nadije Vasif, koja je baš poput svojih koleginica, napustila nametnute joj fiksne dimenzije i odbila da se smesti u okvire kalupa izvajanog od strane društva kojim upravljaju muškarci.
Kroz poglavlja nazvana po različitim sekcijama knjižare Divan, Nadija Vasif, kontekstom knjiga koje je sretala na svom čitalačko-preduzetničkom putu, iznosi svoje stavove o raznim gorućim temama – politici, polnoj diskriminaciji, razvodu, porodičnim odnosima, cenzuri.
Fragmentima iz Nadijinog života, stičemo uvid u realno stanje egipatskog društva i u to koliki uticaj je kolonijalizam ostavio na njegove pojedince. Stoga, izbor knjiga na policama knjižare Divan, umnogome prikazuje i domete širenja suverene vlasti Francuske i Velike Britanije na egipatskoj teritoriji, a književnost, kao i uvek, biva samo jedna od oblasti u kojoj je taj uticaj veoma opipljiv.
Knjige sa kojima se poistovećujem, za mene predstavljaju nešto što čuvam na posebnim, tome namenjenim policama kućne biblioteke. Nadijina opsednutost kontrolom (na kraju knjige se zahvaljuje što su joj konstantno omogućavali uvid u prevod našeg izdanja), perfekcionizam, otpor prema ukalupljenostima, tačnost, direktnost, preciznost i vrlo česte predrasude prema određenim temama, osobine su koje, bez preteranog razmišljanja, pripisujem i svojoj ličnosti.
Stoga, Nadijin otpor prema knjigama iz žanra samopomoći i stav da su ovi naslovi nalik čipsu jer ne zahtevaju nikakav trud da bi se u njima uživalo, nešto je što i sama promovišem. Međutim, njen prvi suprug, komentarišući ovaj naslov, istakao je kako je ona napisala sopstvenu knjigu samopomoći, i ja ću se sa tim apsolutno složiti i dodati da je ovo jedina vrsta samopomoći koju ja prihvatam. Reč je o samopomoći nimalo nalik čipsu, iz razloga što se ono najvažnije što je Nadija htela da iskaže svojim memoarima, krije između redova, i nije servirano na švedskom stolu tako da svako može da se posluži ponuđenim specijalitetima.
S obzirom na to da naslov ovih memoara može izazvati zabunu kod čitalaca u pogledu njegove sadržine, iskoristiću priliku da ga preformulišem kao „Memoari jedne knjižarke u Kairu ili kako je to biti žena preduzetnica (i opstati u svom poslu) u društvu kojim upravljaju muškarci“.
Za kraj, dodala bih još i to da je Nadija Vasif 2014, 2015. i 2016. godine svrstana u Forbsovu listu „Dvesta najmoćnijih žena Bliskog istoka“, kao i to da su za dobru knjigu potrebni kvalitet, elokventnost pisca i elokventnost prevodioca, a „Letopis jedne knjižarke u Kairu“ definitivno je knjiga koja sve navedeno poseduje.
July 21, 2022
As much as I absolutely LOVE reading about books, book shops, libraries, etc., I found this book to be quite a disappointment. Although the author (one of the bookstore owners) reminded me of me as an entrepreneur and very independent lady - the author kept telling the reader how much of a bitch she was, as if she was bragging about it. This author is not a true leader at all. I don't understand why she kept bragging about "being a bitch". Her poor employees - getting uniform pants with the pockets sewn shut so they would not steal? Give me a break!
There are many, many other books about bookshops, book stores and libraries. I suggest reading them rather than this awful book. I give this book only a 1 star (and would have given a ZERO) because the author deserves it - she is truly an uninspiring, abusive-person/writer. If I were an Angel investor, I would NEVER invest in anything Nadia Wassef was involved with. What a shame she holds herself up as an example! Bragging about her abusive behavior towards both employees as well as Customers!
There are many, many other books about bookshops, book stores and libraries. I suggest reading them rather than this awful book. I give this book only a 1 star (and would have given a ZERO) because the author deserves it - she is truly an uninspiring, abusive-person/writer. If I were an Angel investor, I would NEVER invest in anything Nadia Wassef was involved with. What a shame she holds herself up as an example! Bragging about her abusive behavior towards both employees as well as Customers!
March 19, 2023
2.5. Enjoyed reading parts of it, especially those specifically about/set in Cairo and because I know the store. But objectively the book isn’t very well written and the author seems quite rude, unpleasant and pretentious.
March 16, 2025
/ „Gyvenime labai mažai teisingumo, bet svarbiausia tai, kiek teiki tam reikšmės.“ /
Knyga, iš kurios tikėjausi labai daug, o gavosi šnipštas...
Man labai patinka memuarai, bet tik tuomet, kai jie būna įdomiai parašyti, kai juose justi bent mažas krislelis gyvybingumo, kai mintys, kurias kiekvienas skaitytojas supranta savaip, įkvepia gyventi, kurti, augti. Būtent to ir tikėjausi iš „Kairo knygyno“, bet... sukėlė tik visiškai priešingus jausmus...
Tai turėjo būti lyg meilės laiškas Egiptui, kuriame autorė pasakoja apie jos, sesers ir draugės kartu įkurtą pirmą komercinį knygyną „Diwan“ patriarchalinėje Egipto visuomenėje tuo metu, kai žmonėms nebuvo priimtina pirkti knygas, jei gali jas pasiskolinti bibliotekose. Bet meilės laiško Egiptui ar knygynui čia, deja, neradau.
Vienintelė meilė, kurią čia galiu įžvelgti, tai autorės meilė sau. Tokio arogantiškumu ir narciziškumu perpildyto teksto dar nebuvau skaičiusi. Net dalykus, kurie ne apie ją, autorė vis tiek sugebėdavo supinti ar pakreipti taip, kad galiausiai jie vis tiek kažkiek sietųsi su ja pačia. Na, sugebėjimą tam tikrai turi, nepasiginčysi, bet tai taip erzino...
Ir gal visgi tai praleisčiau pro pirštus, jei visa kita būtų buvę įdomu ir kryptinga, bet... buvo tik nuobodu ir padrika. Knyga suskirstyta į skyrius pagal tai, kokia tvarka jie atsirado knygyne. Ir kai tikiesi, kad kiekviename jų rasi įdomią istoriją apie tai, kaip kilo idėja skyrių pristatyti, kaip skaitytojai jį priėmė, kokių kitų įdomybių, bet randi tik blaškymąsi, krūvą minčių šuolių ir temos pametimą vos po kelių pirmų skyriaus puslapių.
Na, bet juk negali viskas būti taaaip blogai, tiesa? Raskim ir pliusų! Nors ir papasakota ne itin įdomiai, bet tikrai bus galima bent minimaliai pažinti Egipto kultūrą, susidaryti vaizdą apie visuomenės, ypač vyrų, požiūrį į moteris, suprasti iššūkius, su kuriais teko susidurti, norint išvystyti sėkmingą verslą tam nepalankioje aplinkoje, ir panašiai.
Aš ryšio su knyga neradau (o, gaila!), bet gal kažkam pavyks įžvelgti daugiau nei tai, ką radau aš.
Knyga, iš kurios tikėjausi labai daug, o gavosi šnipštas...
Man labai patinka memuarai, bet tik tuomet, kai jie būna įdomiai parašyti, kai juose justi bent mažas krislelis gyvybingumo, kai mintys, kurias kiekvienas skaitytojas supranta savaip, įkvepia gyventi, kurti, augti. Būtent to ir tikėjausi iš „Kairo knygyno“, bet... sukėlė tik visiškai priešingus jausmus...
Tai turėjo būti lyg meilės laiškas Egiptui, kuriame autorė pasakoja apie jos, sesers ir draugės kartu įkurtą pirmą komercinį knygyną „Diwan“ patriarchalinėje Egipto visuomenėje tuo metu, kai žmonėms nebuvo priimtina pirkti knygas, jei gali jas pasiskolinti bibliotekose. Bet meilės laiško Egiptui ar knygynui čia, deja, neradau.
Vienintelė meilė, kurią čia galiu įžvelgti, tai autorės meilė sau. Tokio arogantiškumu ir narciziškumu perpildyto teksto dar nebuvau skaičiusi. Net dalykus, kurie ne apie ją, autorė vis tiek sugebėdavo supinti ar pakreipti taip, kad galiausiai jie vis tiek kažkiek sietųsi su ja pačia. Na, sugebėjimą tam tikrai turi, nepasiginčysi, bet tai taip erzino...
Ir gal visgi tai praleisčiau pro pirštus, jei visa kita būtų buvę įdomu ir kryptinga, bet... buvo tik nuobodu ir padrika. Knyga suskirstyta į skyrius pagal tai, kokia tvarka jie atsirado knygyne. Ir kai tikiesi, kad kiekviename jų rasi įdomią istoriją apie tai, kaip kilo idėja skyrių pristatyti, kaip skaitytojai jį priėmė, kokių kitų įdomybių, bet randi tik blaškymąsi, krūvą minčių šuolių ir temos pametimą vos po kelių pirmų skyriaus puslapių.
Na, bet juk negali viskas būti taaaip blogai, tiesa? Raskim ir pliusų! Nors ir papasakota ne itin įdomiai, bet tikrai bus galima bent minimaliai pažinti Egipto kultūrą, susidaryti vaizdą apie visuomenės, ypač vyrų, požiūrį į moteris, suprasti iššūkius, su kuriais teko susidurti, norint išvystyti sėkmingą verslą tam nepalankioje aplinkoje, ir panašiai.
Aš ryšio su knyga neradau (o, gaila!), bet gal kažkam pavyks įžvelgti daugiau nei tai, ką radau aš.
July 12, 2023
Zamalek’s Diwan is the first bookstore I ever went to. As a kid, I thought it was heaven. I was more excited about the potential to read all these books than about reading any of them.
I picked up this book thinking it was fiction. I didn’t know it was about the history of Diwan. Now that I know the bookstore is founded by three women, I wonder if I had ever seen any of the them. I would have likely believed that they had read all the books in Diwan (and by extension, all the books in the world).
I am unable to separate how good this book is from my familiarity with the places and the experiences. I thought a lot about whether the people in the story were caricatured. This, I only ever thought in the first place because I am reading the text in English, and English tends to caricature what is not originially English. The text itself is not translated; Nadia Wassef really wrote this in English, but the real events, the interactions, and the dialogues are translated from Egyptian dialect to English, so there’s a strange linguistic chasm between the reality of these events and the way they are presented here.
“Caricature” implies an inherent otherness in the portrayal of people, a flatness, which – you would expect – a Westerner writing about Egyptians is more likely to be accused of than an Egyptian writing about Egyptians. But there’s an inversion of this expectation here and in other books written about Egypt by Egyptian women. Egyptians are more likely to accept a Westerner’s description of them (even if unflattering) as earnest and observant, rather than reductive or inaccurate. The Westerner’s writing is perceived instead to render Egypt with anthropological attention. If the Westerner had noticed a “flaw” in the system or the culture in their visit and wrote about it (usually in a romantic attitude that can afford to make a quirk out of something they don’t have to put up with for long), Egyptians accept it as a valuable depiction of their culture. It’s a reflex with colonial residue: correcting our perception of our culture to accommodate the observation of the Westerner.
But when an Egyptian writes about Egypt in English and acknowledges the flaws with an experiential sensitivity to class dynamics, as is the case here, she is accused of rendering the people in her story as caricatures to make the story more entertaining for the foreigner. Or to make things uglier than they are, with a selfish motive of being acclaimed as critical by the West. The Egyptian writer is taxed with presenting a pristine Egypt because modern Egyptian representation is so scarce.
The criticism is milder for a Westerner writing about Egyptians because we are so glad they are writing about us in the first place that we will accept anything. Nadia Wassef writes, “Our colonized culture is so accustomed to being othered that we unquestioningly accept that [Western] knowledge as a gift.” Further, criticism is much harsher for an Egyptian woman writing about the life she has lived and what she has seen (the bribery, the stealing, the honking, the bargaining, the shouting, the sexism, the assault). There’s a rejection of presenting Egypt as the Egyptian woman has lived in it, with the bad stuff made traumatic or inconvenient rather than writing about Egypt as a spectacle where the “bad” stuff is made quirky in a way that would make the reader shake their head and smile. This is my favourite discussion in the book.
There’s an irony that brackets the entire text. As a bookseller who mostly reads English, Nadia Wassef is writing everything in this book in English (from Egypt’s political history, its literary censorship, the cultural identity crisis to model Egyptian culture after Western values, the radical movements that resisted these same Western values). The book is “self-conscious” about the irony of using a persistent colonial language to criticise colonial effects on Egyptian culture and public literacy. Everything in this book is communicated through a colonial language frame. I think there’s something cool about still finding the words from a colonial language to rebel and resist policing – whether the policing applied through cultural pressures of patriotic Egyptians and the government itself or the linguistic policing inherent in the limitations of this foreign language to capture Egyptian experience.
I picked up this book thinking it was fiction. I didn’t know it was about the history of Diwan. Now that I know the bookstore is founded by three women, I wonder if I had ever seen any of the them. I would have likely believed that they had read all the books in Diwan (and by extension, all the books in the world).
I am unable to separate how good this book is from my familiarity with the places and the experiences. I thought a lot about whether the people in the story were caricatured. This, I only ever thought in the first place because I am reading the text in English, and English tends to caricature what is not originially English. The text itself is not translated; Nadia Wassef really wrote this in English, but the real events, the interactions, and the dialogues are translated from Egyptian dialect to English, so there’s a strange linguistic chasm between the reality of these events and the way they are presented here.
“Caricature” implies an inherent otherness in the portrayal of people, a flatness, which – you would expect – a Westerner writing about Egyptians is more likely to be accused of than an Egyptian writing about Egyptians. But there’s an inversion of this expectation here and in other books written about Egypt by Egyptian women. Egyptians are more likely to accept a Westerner’s description of them (even if unflattering) as earnest and observant, rather than reductive or inaccurate. The Westerner’s writing is perceived instead to render Egypt with anthropological attention. If the Westerner had noticed a “flaw” in the system or the culture in their visit and wrote about it (usually in a romantic attitude that can afford to make a quirk out of something they don’t have to put up with for long), Egyptians accept it as a valuable depiction of their culture. It’s a reflex with colonial residue: correcting our perception of our culture to accommodate the observation of the Westerner.
But when an Egyptian writes about Egypt in English and acknowledges the flaws with an experiential sensitivity to class dynamics, as is the case here, she is accused of rendering the people in her story as caricatures to make the story more entertaining for the foreigner. Or to make things uglier than they are, with a selfish motive of being acclaimed as critical by the West. The Egyptian writer is taxed with presenting a pristine Egypt because modern Egyptian representation is so scarce.
The criticism is milder for a Westerner writing about Egyptians because we are so glad they are writing about us in the first place that we will accept anything. Nadia Wassef writes, “Our colonized culture is so accustomed to being othered that we unquestioningly accept that [Western] knowledge as a gift.” Further, criticism is much harsher for an Egyptian woman writing about the life she has lived and what she has seen (the bribery, the stealing, the honking, the bargaining, the shouting, the sexism, the assault). There’s a rejection of presenting Egypt as the Egyptian woman has lived in it, with the bad stuff made traumatic or inconvenient rather than writing about Egypt as a spectacle where the “bad” stuff is made quirky in a way that would make the reader shake their head and smile. This is my favourite discussion in the book.
There’s an irony that brackets the entire text. As a bookseller who mostly reads English, Nadia Wassef is writing everything in this book in English (from Egypt’s political history, its literary censorship, the cultural identity crisis to model Egyptian culture after Western values, the radical movements that resisted these same Western values). The book is “self-conscious” about the irony of using a persistent colonial language to criticise colonial effects on Egyptian culture and public literacy. Everything in this book is communicated through a colonial language frame. I think there’s something cool about still finding the words from a colonial language to rebel and resist policing – whether the policing applied through cultural pressures of patriotic Egyptians and the government itself or the linguistic policing inherent in the limitations of this foreign language to capture Egyptian experience.
July 21, 2024
Історія першої в Каїрі сучасної книгарні "Диван", відкритої двома сестрами з подругою - молодими жінками з привілейованих родин, в яких знають досконало англійську, але не вміють читати рідною арабською. Керування книгарнею для цих жінок - це також пошуки свого коріння й ідентичності.
Так, розмірковуючи про єгиптологію, авторка мемуарів розуміє: минуле Єгипту вони знають лише за посередництвом західноєвропейських дослідників - а де ж їхнє місце в контексті наукових студій і доступу до власної історії?
Сперечаючись з приводу періодичних заборон ісламською владою книг, як-от "Тисячі й однієї ночі", авторка міркує: але ж кожен десятий єгиптянин - християнин-копт, а мусульмани завоювали країну лише у 7 столітті - то хто кого тут утискає?
Опікуючись полицями класичної літератури в книгарні, жінка визнає: більшість єгиптян, як і вона, не здатні читати класичні твори навіть земляків-лауреатів Нобелівки, тому що вони не володіють літературною арабською, якою видані книги. Періодичні спроби неурядових організацій добитися друку книг загальнодоступною формою арабської щоразу зазнають невдачі.
Про перипетії ведення бізнесу жінками в чоловічому мусульманському світі, про хабарі (які вона заплутано виправдовує як спосіб підірвати бюрократичну систему зсередини), про нелегальне відеоспостереження за своїми працівниками (знову ж, вона не соромиться цього зловживання своєю керівною посадою) - все це дуже цікаво читати, хоч подекуди і дратує.
Цікаво про культурний і соціальний ландшафт Каїру: наслідки французької, згодом англійської колонізації. Протиставлення слабкої державної освіти і приватних англійських шкіл, класовість, релігійні впливи, місце жінки в публічному просторі й шухлядковий фемінізм чоловіків: доньок вони вчать досягати успіху в суспільстві, а дружин обмежують кухнею і дітьми.
Сподобалось, як у тоненькій книзі на 200 сторінок авторка охопила так багато тем, ще й переважно через призму книг, які сама обирала для продажу і які замовляли її клієнти.
Наприкінці авторка емігрує до Лондона - метрополії, яку досі звинувачувала в колонізаційній політиці стосовно Єгипту. Це так, якби ми їхали до москви, за її логікою. Може, й не дивно, що в Лондоні вона не знаходить свого місця у книжковому бізнесі. З її слів, книжковий ринок в Британії - більш вимогливий й інтелектуалізований.
Так, розмірковуючи про єгиптологію, авторка мемуарів розуміє: минуле Єгипту вони знають лише за посередництвом західноєвропейських дослідників - а де ж їхнє місце в контексті наукових студій і доступу до власної історії?
Сперечаючись з приводу періодичних заборон ісламською владою книг, як-от "Тисячі й однієї ночі", авторка міркує: але ж кожен десятий єгиптянин - християнин-копт, а мусульмани завоювали країну лише у 7 столітті - то хто кого тут утискає?
Опікуючись полицями класичної літератури в книгарні, жінка визнає: більшість єгиптян, як і вона, не здатні читати класичні твори навіть земляків-лауреатів Нобелівки, тому що вони не володіють літературною арабською, якою видані книги. Періодичні спроби неурядових організацій добитися друку книг загальнодоступною формою арабської щоразу зазнають невдачі.
Про перипетії ведення бізнесу жінками в чоловічому мусульманському світі, про хабарі (які вона заплутано виправдовує як спосіб підірвати бюрократичну систему зсередини), про нелегальне відеоспостереження за своїми працівниками (знову ж, вона не соромиться цього зловживання своєю керівною посадою) - все це дуже цікаво читати, хоч подекуди і дратує.
Цікаво про культурний і соціальний ландшафт Каїру: наслідки французької, згодом англійської колонізації. Протиставлення слабкої державної освіти і приватних англійських шкіл, класовість, релігійні впливи, місце жінки в публічному просторі й шухлядковий фемінізм чоловіків: доньок вони вчать досягати успіху в суспільстві, а дружин обмежують кухнею і дітьми.
Сподобалось, як у тоненькій книзі на 200 сторінок авторка охопила так багато тем, ще й переважно через призму книг, які сама обирала для продажу і які замовляли її клієнти.
Наприкінці авторка емігрує до Лондона - метрополії, яку досі звинувачувала в колонізаційній політиці стосовно Єгипту. Це так, якби ми їхали до москви, за її логікою. Може, й не дивно, що в Лондоні вона не знаходить свого місця у книжковому бізнесі. З її слів, книжковий ринок в Британії - більш вимогливий й інтелектуалізований.
August 18, 2022
My feelings about this book, in a nutshell:
Okay, I very very rarely read non-fiction, so I didn't have high expectations, but I thought a book about how three women opened the first modern bookshop in Egypt and made it a huge success would be interesting to read.
Unfortunately, the book isn't really about that. Yes, it mentions bits and pieces about what they had to do, some decisions they had to make, how they split the work, but that's almost secondary to vignettes from Egypt's culture and every-day life, mixed with some glimpses of employee-employer interactions. I just expected to see more about how they actually managed to do it all...
The structure didn't help. Each chapter is based on a bookshop section, so you have Cookery, Business and Management, Art etc. This was a great and clever idea in theory, but it meant that the chronology was all over the place. Constantly going backward and forward in time just made it harder to follow.
What I disliked most was the author herself, sadly. I respect that she is a successful business woman, who achieved something remarkable. Egypt's social norms meant that someone had to be ruthless, and Nadia and the others had a sort of bad cop - good cop routine going. I just thought that Nadia really enjoyed being the bad cop. It wasn't a role she played because she had to, she was like that in her personal life too, or when it was uncalled for. I hope I will never have a boss like her.
I was honestly surprised that this was published last year. I thought some of the views were quite tone deaf, like joking about being the pharaoh and cracking the whip...
And while she sometimes openly acknowledges her privilege, there are so many occasions when the ingrained privilege is showing (like complaining that travelling between shop branches was really tough...in her chauffeured, air-conditioned car).
Perhaps my rating is a bit unfair, since I generally don't enjoy non-fiction, but I've read text books that I found more interesting, so I'll stick to my subjective 2 stars.
"The books failed to capture my imagination, but I kept reading"
Okay, I very very rarely read non-fiction, so I didn't have high expectations, but I thought a book about how three women opened the first modern bookshop in Egypt and made it a huge success would be interesting to read.
Unfortunately, the book isn't really about that. Yes, it mentions bits and pieces about what they had to do, some decisions they had to make, how they split the work, but that's almost secondary to vignettes from Egypt's culture and every-day life, mixed with some glimpses of employee-employer interactions. I just expected to see more about how they actually managed to do it all...
The structure didn't help. Each chapter is based on a bookshop section, so you have Cookery, Business and Management, Art etc. This was a great and clever idea in theory, but it meant that the chronology was all over the place. Constantly going backward and forward in time just made it harder to follow.
What I disliked most was the author herself, sadly. I respect that she is a successful business woman, who achieved something remarkable. Egypt's social norms meant that someone had to be ruthless, and Nadia and the others had a sort of bad cop - good cop routine going. I just thought that Nadia really enjoyed being the bad cop. It wasn't a role she played because she had to, she was like that in her personal life too, or when it was uncalled for. I hope I will never have a boss like her.
I was honestly surprised that this was published last year. I thought some of the views were quite tone deaf, like joking about being the pharaoh and cracking the whip...
And while she sometimes openly acknowledges her privilege, there are so many occasions when the ingrained privilege is showing (like complaining that travelling between shop branches was really tough...in her chauffeured, air-conditioned car).
Perhaps my rating is a bit unfair, since I generally don't enjoy non-fiction, but I've read text books that I found more interesting, so I'll stick to my subjective 2 stars.
May 1, 2021
For three women to open an independent bookstore/cafe in downtown Cairo, Egypt, two decades ago was a groundbreaker to some, a novelty to others, but a passion to the three booksellers. Diwan, or "Connect," in English, quickly became an oasis of learning and camaraderie in a thirsty city, but the early years were fraught with perils: offending the wrong customer, being cheated by an unscrupulous employee or purchase partner, misjudging the public appetite for classics or current trends, grappling with sexism, battling amongst themselves over which titles deserved the most privileged display spots--and on and on. But co-owners Ms. Wassef, her sister Hind, and their friend Nihal managed through growing pain after growing pain, political shift after political shift, to endure, thrive, and elevate their fellow citizens with a sanctuary of sanity, understanding, and rapprochement. The fact that their one bookstore gave birth to nine offshoots speaks (pardon the pun) volumes about the maturing of these ladies' business acumen. If this book sounds at all high-handed and formulaic, it is anything but, thanks to Ms. Wassef's keen and often funny observations about her co-workers, customers, and family members, as well as constant reminders of her deeply felt tug-of-war between motherhood, marriage, and the business. Here, we are transported to an entrancingly colorful refuge, and we come out the better for it.
July 24, 2021
I was excited to get a glimpse of a bookseller’s life, especially a woman in religiously conservative nation. Wassef was co-owner of Diwan in Cairo and her personal memoir is written in the context of her bookstores. “The truth is that Diwan isn’t a business. She’s a person and this is her story.” The story of both Wassef and Diwan is presented anecdotally, each chapter representing a different section of the shop. She discusses Egyptian classical cannon, which I enjoyed, and I never before thought of Egypt in terms of pre-Islamic (Pharaonist) versus post-Islamification, but now I totally understand the distinction.
In some ways, Wassef is relatable. I admire her tenacity, appreciate her perfectionism, and share her disdain for self-help books. She acknowledges her difficult personality, but her abrasiveness isn’t endearing. Cursing by no means offends me, but she seemed to drop f-bombs purely for shock value, as if to say, See, I’m a tough effing chick. Besides giving me a glimpse into her personal life, the chapter Pregnancy and Parenting did nothing for me. The logistics and challenges of running the stores were interesting, but the personal dynamics were not. Overall, I wasn’t captivated enough by Nadia’s narrative to eagerly resume reading her book every day.
I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher.
In some ways, Wassef is relatable. I admire her tenacity, appreciate her perfectionism, and share her disdain for self-help books. She acknowledges her difficult personality, but her abrasiveness isn’t endearing. Cursing by no means offends me, but she seemed to drop f-bombs purely for shock value, as if to say, See, I’m a tough effing chick. Besides giving me a glimpse into her personal life, the chapter Pregnancy and Parenting did nothing for me. The logistics and challenges of running the stores were interesting, but the personal dynamics were not. Overall, I wasn’t captivated enough by Nadia’s narrative to eagerly resume reading her book every day.
I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher.
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