From the author of the novel 'Umbilical Cord', excerpted in Banipal 44
A testimony on Writing
I Came to Writing from the World of Politics
I
grew up in an environment that was more interested in politics than
anything else. There was no interest in my family in literature, but
politics brought me to reading. Because of my readings in politics, I
was gradually drawn to reading world literature. I began with Russian
novels. Then I discovered the enjoyment of literature and became
interested in French literature. My discovery of French literature
introduced me to Sartre. He dominated my spirit for a long time and I
struggled to liberate myself from his influence. Then I became
acquainted with the writings of Kafka, who enchanted me; I considered
that my own life resembled his. Kafka still resides deep inside me.
I
was influenced by existentialism and then by surrealism. I read many
authors of the surrealist school and really loved André Breton. I was
fascinated by the astonishing life history of Rimbaud.
I
began writing through polemical texts, because I was influenced by
schools that held fast to liberty. I wanted to be different; it was a
kind of intellectual adolescence – a desire to provoke the other person.
I began with erotica but then struggled for a long time to erase its
effects on the history of my writing in the social sense, because Arab
society continues to view writing through the lens of morality.
I
wanted my first novel Al-Lamutanahi (The Infinite) to be a turning
point in my writing career. This book remains very close to my heart,
and there is a playful relationship between it and my life. It is a long
book about a person who is reincarnated multiple times. His name is
Adham Bin Waraqa.
In my second novel,
Lawhat al-Ghilaf (Cover Art) I addressed the idea of failure,
especially because I belong to a generation that has struggled with
disillusionment – in politics first of all – and disappointments that
have progressed through all levels of our lives.
The
third novel was Tarateel al-‘Adam (Hymns of Nothingness), and in it I
employed the technique of creating “ancient” texts as a way of treating
the concept of destiny. This novel imitated the structure of ancient
Sufi works. Its publication was banned in Syria because I referred in a
note to the Kabbalah, and that is forbidden. This actually worked to my
advantage because it inspired me to look for a publisher outside Syria.
It was the first of my novels I published in Beirut.
After
that came the novel Habl Surri (Umbilical Cord), which was longlisted
for the Arabic Booker – the International Prize for Arabic Fiction. In
it I discussed the concerns of exile and identity and the variable
status of woman in the Arab world. The latest of my novels to be
published is Banat al-Barari (Daughters of the Wilderness). In it I
focus on crimes of honour killing.
My
literary themes revolve around my first concerns, which have not
changed much and which have not been resolved: identity, belonging,
homeland, alienation . . . I believe that the foundation of my writing
is a rejection of the state of psychological, spiritual and mental
alienation that I experienced living in Syria, within my family and
within my milieu, because I am from a Kurdish family but do not believe
in nationalism or an ethnic identity for states. I also believe in the
right of others to establish their destinies politically. I have
multiple identities. Those that I discuss the most often are my Kurdish
upbringing, my Arabic language, and the Western ideas which I gained
from readings of Western literature and thought and which established my
consciousness before I ever read Arabic literature. I turned to the
latter only after I became a “professional” writer. This mixture of
identities still leaves me in a state of exile and alienation. I try to
create my peace, identity and homeland through language and, strictly
speaking, through the novel.
All this
anxiety was apparent in the novel Umbilical Cord. Sophie Perrin suffers
from it. She bears the seeds of my anxiety and my search for security
within the circle of contradictions between a society and an individual.
Sophie Perrin is the Eastern woman who left her homeland in search of
the idea of a homeland with which she can identify whether it is legally
hers or not, because she is different. She leaves behind her a daughter
who bears her genes but who lives a reverse history, because she was
born in France and feels a need to discover the East that her mother has
quit. This contradiction between a motherland and a new homeland and a
search for a sense of belonging have kept me awake at night. It also
meant sleepless nights for Sophie Perrin and her daughter Paula, since
an umbilical cord unites us all, transcending geography and ties of
blood and languages.
Translated by William M. Hutchins for Banipal 44
