Genre: Domestic/Literary Fiction
Page Count: 181
‘Beauty is the promise of happiness’ said Stendhal, but it is only so to the limits of passive admiration. Should you ever think of possessing such rare beauty when you come across one, it can prove to be bitterly painful. For the acquisition of beauty, especially when you are vulnerable towards it, is mostly out of one’s reach. Then, maybe, Elif Shafak’s description of her character, Desert Rose, in her novel ‘Forty Rules of Love’ might be a better representation of such beauty, that ‘She was heartbreakingly beautiful’. Heartbreaking, yes – that’s how it feels to come across such instantaneously perfect beauty only to realize that you’ll never see her again, that she’ll never be even remotely yours.
Beauty at such times is not a promise of happiness, of but of bitter realization of one’s loneliness.
Zohra, the female protagonist of Mahfouz’s novel, is also one of such rare beauties who comes work as a maid at the pension when the novel opens. Situated at the city of Alexandria in Egypt in the 1950s-60s, this budgetary pension is run by Mariana, an old woman who lives in the lost charms of her youth. The first guests to arrive are two old men: Amer Wagdi, an ex-journalist known his stirring columns during the Egypt’s 1952 revolution; and Tolba Mazouq, the only anti-revolutionary person at the pension.
While at the beginning, Zohra is mildly troubled by the questioning looks and remarks of Tolba, and also reassured by Amer’s fatherly care, later on her beauty cause her many problems, from harassment to love to heartbreak, once the young men arrive. Among them are: Sarhan, an engaged economist; Hosny, a promiscuous lad looking to start a business; and Mansour, an introverted guy who works at the radio station. Being young, as they are, they just cannot keep their eyes, and the desires such beauty might provoke, to themselves; Zohra becomes the center of their world and desperation.
I had never heard of Naguib Mahfouz before, and only picked his book from my university’s library because it looked promising. Works of translated fiction always appeal to me most, because they’re the ones that most guarantee a transporting reading experience. Reading Mahfouz’s ‘Miramar’, I was roaming the streets of Alexandria during the winter, with its cafés and raining grey clouds.
Being a Muslim myself, I rejoiced when Amer recited verses from the holy Koran, and felt contradictorily aroused and raged whenever Zohra was looked upon with dirty eyes, or as one of the young guests slept with other ladies. While the prohibitions within Islam strictly apply to all Muslims, the increasingly secularist world provoke the youth at every step – and only a few have faith strong enough to deny time and again.
The plot of the novel is narrated through four of the characters’ perspectives: Sarhan, Hosny, Mansour, and Amer Wagdi; all of them telling the version of the story they lived. I remember reading this style of storytelling in novels only from a dual perspective; here, reading the same story from four different participating characters was a fascinating, empathetic, and comprehensive experience for me.
Mahfouz’s novel triumphs not only at telling an engaging and layered story, but also in bringing the culture and times of Egypt alive on the pages, giving the readers a close-to-heart reading experience.
Ratings: 4/5 **** September
23, 2021_