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The Loved Ones
By
Alia Mamdouh
Translated by Marilyn Booth
Arabia Books by
arrangement with American University of Cairo Press, London and Cairo, 2008.
279 pp.
Sons and Lovers
Suhaila, an
Iraqi actor and dancer, lies in a coma in a Paris hospital. She has fled her
country during the first Gulf War along with her only child, Nader Adam, a
teenager. Her military husband, who had abused her for years, has gone missing
- perhaps a prisoner, or one of the anonymous dead.
The novel, winner of the
Naguib Mahfouz Medal for Literature in 2004, is an impassioned and lyrical tale
of three struggles: between mother and son, enmeshed in the love-hate told so
well by D.H. Lawrence; Nader coming to an epiphanic reconciliation through
music; and Suhaila – middleaged and ailing with hypertension – recovering the
beauty of her inner and outer selves through return to a Paris dance stage in
an erotic, seven minute pas de deux.
But then the haemorrhagic stroke, where
the story begins. Nader, now married and a father of two-year old Leon, lives
in Montreal, and since the birth of the boy has refused to answer his mother’s
letters from Paris. It seems (as we learn from Suhaila’s diaries at the end of
the book) that there was a psychological struggle between Suhaila and Nader’s
wife Sonia (of Persian and Indian descent, therefore it is a “mixed marriage”)
for Nader’s soul. No one wins; Nader is also disaffected from Sonia. He must, however,
come to Paris at the beseeching of the coterie of women (the ‘Loved Ones’) who adore
Suhaila, and who believe only Nader can heal his mother. In the first half of
the book we find Nader in a literal sweat with anxiety and fear. The women, an eclectic
gathering of several nationalities (Swedish, Lebanese, Iraqi, French), are
Nader’s Furies, who then become his Eumenides, guiding him to a reconciliation
with his mother who, in fact, does waken from coma a few days after his arrival
and bedside vigil.
Presiding over the events (like Glinda, the good sorceress
of the Land of Oz) is the beautiful, assured, enigmatic Tessa Hayden – playwright
and impresario of the Théâtre du Soleil, who enables Suhaila to achieve her
dance epiphany. It is hinted that Tessa is Jewish.
The rhetoric of the book is
unremitting: intense emotion, lyrical expressions of eros and desire,
hysterical outbursts, rages, and deep bonding between the women. Indeed, even
Nader is rather feminine: a former lover tells him not to shave, he is too
sweet otherwise; his mother says: “Inside of you I see a mother, a sister.” Three
other men have walk-on roles: Hitam, husband of one of Suhaila’s friends is
‘Gentle Ben’ personified, soothing every gathering with his beautiful singing;
Ken, the too-wise Vietnamese helper; and Faw, the Iraqi dancer partnering (and
perhaps loving) Suhaila.
The story is told in overlapping remembrances, layered
conversations, and reminiscences from Suhaila’s diaries. I was impatient with
the latter, which sounded more often like the author’s voice, expository rather
than emanating from the characters themselves. Ultimately, the story is about
Iraq where, says one friend: “We incur big emotion-debts” to be passed on,
especially to children.
From Banipal 40 - Libyan
Fiction
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