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rmjohnson's review against another edition
adventurous
emotional
informative
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
5.0
itselvv's review against another edition
قراءة هذه الثلاثية كانت اشبه بسماع قصة مشوقة عابرة من صديقة، أعطيها كل اهتمامي في وقتها واتسلى بسماعها ولا أفكر فيها بعدها ابدًا. يستثنى من ذلك أغلب الجزء الثالث، حيث أراه وجِدَ ليختم القصة فحسب، لا يضيف شيئًا ولا يملك تأثيرًا.
أعتقد أنَّه من المؤسف أننا لم نرى القصة من أعيُّن أيّ من نساء القصة، على الرّغم من أنَّ قصصهم الخاصة مثيرة للاهتمام، وكان ذلك ليؤثر إيجابًا في القصة، وعمومًا لا أعرف إن كان ذلك يقول شيئًا عن الكاتب أو لا، إلّا أنني أحيانًا أتساءل ما إذا كانت بعض الأفكار الذكورية ليست أفكارًا خارجة عنه إطاره.
قراءة هذا الكتاب تجربة مختلفة وجريئة وبعيدة تمامًا عن منطقة راحتي، ليست سيئة، لكنها لم تضف إليّ أيّ شيء، ولا أعتقد أني قد أخسر شيئًا ما لم أقرأها. بس يعني، بإمكاني الآن أضيف "قراءة ثلاثية محفوظ" للسيرة الذاتية وأخبر العالم عن هالانجاز، ما هي فوق الالف صفحة من أفكار وتصرفات وحيوات ذكوريين، أكيد بستهلك هالانجاز أيما استهلاك.
coriandercake's review against another edition
5.0
Execution: 5/5
Narrative: 5/5
Themes: 5/5 (including gender, generational tensions, nationalism, political struggle, hedonism, religion)
Enjoyment: 3/5 (the strictly political discussions were boring, didn't like reading about the men sleeping around although that was the point and one of the themes of the book)
Sugar Street is very tragic but that tragedy is built on the previous two books.
Narrative: 5/5
Themes: 5/5 (including gender, generational tensions, nationalism, political struggle, hedonism, religion)
Enjoyment: 3/5 (the strictly political discussions were boring, didn't like reading about the men sleeping around although that was the point and one of the themes of the book)
Sugar Street is very tragic but that tragedy is built on the previous two books.
neilrcoulter's review against another edition
4.0
*spoilers*
I’m embarrassed that I only recently heard of Naguib Mahfouz. I have no excuse, and my missing him until now is only further proof that there are too many books waiting to be discovered in this world. Whatever the case, I am thankful to have discovered another fantastic novelist, who opens up for me new cultural and historical vistas and perspectives. As I’ve been learning more about the Arab world recently, reading Mahfouz is a very pleasant way of tying together some of the details I’m learning, within a fictional framework.
The Everyman’s Library all-in-one edition of The Cairo Trilogy is a beautiful book. It’s large, but sits well in the hand while reading. The pages and type are designed well, I like the ribbon bookmark, and there’s a helpful introduction and timeline in the beginning of the book.
I read the three volumes, with some time in between each one, over several months, and I wrote reviews for each book as I read it:
Palace Walk
Like many of my favorite novels (Middlemarch especially, but also beloved novels by Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, and others), Palace Walk introduces what seems like too many characters to keep track of. What adds to my difficulty is that I have no framework for placing Arabic names, so at first even just figuring out who’s who within the family is a little bit challenging. But also like other of my favorite novelists, Mahfouz is gifted in drawing out the distinctive characteristics of each person, so that within a very short time I feel like I’ve known and lived with these characters forever.
What I love about this novel is how it reflects aspects of my own life and character—usually painfully! In each member of the family I see aspects of my own struggles, internal things I’m ashamed of, frivolity that is just silly. This both draws me into the story and makes it hard to gaze at it. I want to know myself better through these characters, but I’m also scared to contemplate my faults and shortcomings so precisely.
The narrative is primarily internal and character-driven, rather than focused on action—but the story does include a number of spectacular actions. In the family, we first see an introduction to each character, and then weddings start coming fast and furious; and then a series of crises. For Egypt as a whole—which plays a role as an overarching character, looming over all of the smaller events—we see the Armistice of World War I, the hopes for independence from the British, and the 1919 Revolution: student demonstrations, uneasy intercultural relations, and tragedy.
Palace Walk is an incredibly emotional, gripping novel, and I loved every minute of it. It’s over a third the length of the trilogy as a whole, yet it feels like merely the setup for an ongoing, tremendous story. I look forward to diving into the second book of the series, Palace of Desire, after a short break.
Palace of Desire
This was a challenging book to read! I often felt that I was being beat up by one depressing event after another. In the same way that Thomas Hardy was criticized for “deriving an almost sadistic pleasure from Tess’s suffering” in Tess of the d’Urbervilles, Mahfouz is walking a very fine line between crafting a gripping, character-driven story, and wallowing in the worst of humanity. There were times when I wondered if Mahfouz was merely trying his hardest to show Yasin, especially, making the worst choices possible.
All throughout this second book of the trilogy, Mahfouz is taking each of his characters apart, piece by piece (in Yasin’s case, more than one piece at a time!). The death at the end of the first volume continues to resonate in the life of each of the surviving family members, and it’s hard to imagine these people finding a true, wise equilibrium. What’s left by the last 80 pages or so is only the foundations, and even those are in question. But those last pages of the novel are powerful, and I think they justify the awful behavior that led up to the conclusion.
I found most of Palace of Desire very gripping, but there were a few disappointments. One is that the actual historical events didn’t seem as directly connected to the story as in the first volume. This story is much more ambiguous, less rooted in the political events of the time (though they are still discussed by the characters, occasionally).
I was also disappointed in Khadija. She is just really difficult in this story, and every time the narrative shifted to her for a few chapters, I would sigh inwardly, “Oh please, not a chapter about Khadija!” I hope she may find some maturity and redemption in the final volume.
In this book, Kamal becomes the primary protagonist—which is no surprise, since I assume he is meant to stand for Mahfouz himself. Kamal’s main motivation—Aïda, the beloved—becomes a bit tiresome, especially as it is perfectly clear from the start how it’s going to end up. I am most curious to see Kamal’s continuing development in the third book.
I enjoyed the discussion of the early career of Umm Kalthoum. That was a nice historical touch. And I also love Mahfouz’s style of beginning a chapter in such a way that you’re not quite sure which character’s mind you’re in until you’ve read a few paragraphs. The way he constructs scenes of dialogue, with characters’ internal dialogue coming before what they actually speak aloud, is brilliant.
Sugar Street
Ok, so I’m fine with a book that presents the frequent despair in the human condition. I don’t mind characters who doubt the foundations of their lives, and a bit of tragedy happening in a novel is acceptable and necessary. But the extent to which Mahfouz refuses his characters the briefest glimmer of hope and joy becomes wearying by the third book. For me, the pinnacle was when Aisha’s daughter dies in childbirth. I just could hardly believe that Mahfouz would subject that poor woman to yet more tragedy. What is it that Mahfouz wants to show us through this incessant despair?
One key may be a line that ends a chapter about people taking shelter during a nighttime air raid: “In this brief moment of darkness, life had reminded careless people of its incomparable value” (1174). Perhaps Mahfouz has crafted this extended “moment of darkness” simply to remind the reader of life in all of its joys and sorrows. In following the members of this family through the streets of Cairo over decades, we see the depths of human nature—lustfulness, lack of self-control (or misplaced, excessive discipline), paralyzing doubt, seemingly pointless political maneuvering, along with uncontrollable tragedy. It’s an uncomfortable mirror held up for us to look into, that we can contemplate our own weaknesses, and the sorrows that come upon us, unlooked for and unexpected. After taking this journey with Mahfouz, hopefully we have eyes so desperate to see light in the world around us that we will seek it out in ways that we might not have before—and seek to be that light for other people.
Reflecting on the trilogy as a whole, a couple of things stand out to me. One is the suffocating nature of the Cairo setting. Not that Cairo itself is presented in an uncomplimentary way—but there seems to be no escape. The family members hear news (increasingly, especially in the third volume, which speeds through the years) from the world outside of Egypt, and they have acquaintances who set off for other parts of the world (Kamal’s friends, in particular, seem freer to leave their homeland than any other characters do). Yet there is an intense gravity that keeps them rooted to the same place, giving the story an almost claustrophobic feeling. It’s as though Mahfouz is relentlessly forcing us to stay with these characters, denying them the life changes that would naturally happen if they could just get out of Cairo for a while (though it doesn’t seem that fleeing Egypt is healthy for many of the characters who do have the opportunity)—like, a change of scenery would be a false way of distracting them from their real, internal struggles. It’s an interesting, infuriating technique for a novel—especially a series of novels that runs to as many pages as this one does.
The other recurring theme that affected me was the way that there is no foundation for stability for these characters. These are characters who at least pass through phases of devout religious faith, yet that faith always seems a little distant. It’s more of a magic talisman than a present help for real-life trauma and struggle. It’s a constant, nagging presence in the story, but it’s always ambiguous. Is Amina right to cling to her hopes as she visits the shrine every day? I think so—and I think Mahfouz thinks so—but this novel is never going to admit outright that it’s a worthy activity that does any good in the world. Kamal’s constant doubt and questioning never resolves itself; Yasin remains devout and yet absurd; other characters have varying perspectives on belief, but nothing that brings lasting, tangible joy to their lives.
The other typically solid foundation in life is family—which is by far one of the dominant themes of these books. Yet here again, family doesn’t offer much worthwhile guidance for life. The sons follow in their father’s footsteps—even unknowingly, at first—but there is no possibility of open communication, by which the father might impart some wisdom before they squander their lives on the same lusts. When Kamal’s heart is broken by Aïda, there’s no one to come alongside him and assure him that such young crushes are perfectly normal, or show him how to move on in life. Instead, he falls into sensual lusts and drinking, blind to the fact that it’s these very behaviors that keep him from seeing the world, and his own life, truthfully. None of al-Sayyid Ahmad’s children try to replicate the kind of household they were subjected to, yet none of them seems to know quite how to establish a household at all. Much of the novel—especially from the second volume onward—finds the entire family in a liminal state (modeled externally by Aisha and internally by Kamal). They’re not quite what they started out as, but they haven’t yet become anything else distinct. They walk through life, wondering what happened to them, but they find no answers. At the conclusion of the story, it’s hard to imagine that that family will still be a cohesive unit after another generation or two. (And if Yasin is the one who transmits the family lore, then the next generations won’t even know what really happened. “What is truth?”)
The Cairo Trilogy is a fascinating, depressing, challenging story. I’m glad to have spent some months working my way through it, though I’m also glad to look at my own life and see joy and hope and light.
I’m embarrassed that I only recently heard of Naguib Mahfouz. I have no excuse, and my missing him until now is only further proof that there are too many books waiting to be discovered in this world. Whatever the case, I am thankful to have discovered another fantastic novelist, who opens up for me new cultural and historical vistas and perspectives. As I’ve been learning more about the Arab world recently, reading Mahfouz is a very pleasant way of tying together some of the details I’m learning, within a fictional framework.
The Everyman’s Library all-in-one edition of The Cairo Trilogy is a beautiful book. It’s large, but sits well in the hand while reading. The pages and type are designed well, I like the ribbon bookmark, and there’s a helpful introduction and timeline in the beginning of the book.
I read the three volumes, with some time in between each one, over several months, and I wrote reviews for each book as I read it:
Palace Walk
Like many of my favorite novels (Middlemarch especially, but also beloved novels by Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, and others), Palace Walk introduces what seems like too many characters to keep track of. What adds to my difficulty is that I have no framework for placing Arabic names, so at first even just figuring out who’s who within the family is a little bit challenging. But also like other of my favorite novelists, Mahfouz is gifted in drawing out the distinctive characteristics of each person, so that within a very short time I feel like I’ve known and lived with these characters forever.
What I love about this novel is how it reflects aspects of my own life and character—usually painfully! In each member of the family I see aspects of my own struggles, internal things I’m ashamed of, frivolity that is just silly. This both draws me into the story and makes it hard to gaze at it. I want to know myself better through these characters, but I’m also scared to contemplate my faults and shortcomings so precisely.
The narrative is primarily internal and character-driven, rather than focused on action—but the story does include a number of spectacular actions. In the family, we first see an introduction to each character, and then weddings start coming fast and furious; and then a series of crises. For Egypt as a whole—which plays a role as an overarching character, looming over all of the smaller events—we see the Armistice of World War I, the hopes for independence from the British, and the 1919 Revolution: student demonstrations, uneasy intercultural relations, and tragedy.
Palace Walk is an incredibly emotional, gripping novel, and I loved every minute of it. It’s over a third the length of the trilogy as a whole, yet it feels like merely the setup for an ongoing, tremendous story. I look forward to diving into the second book of the series, Palace of Desire, after a short break.
Palace of Desire
This was a challenging book to read! I often felt that I was being beat up by one depressing event after another. In the same way that Thomas Hardy was criticized for “deriving an almost sadistic pleasure from Tess’s suffering” in Tess of the d’Urbervilles, Mahfouz is walking a very fine line between crafting a gripping, character-driven story, and wallowing in the worst of humanity. There were times when I wondered if Mahfouz was merely trying his hardest to show Yasin, especially, making the worst choices possible.
All throughout this second book of the trilogy, Mahfouz is taking each of his characters apart, piece by piece (in Yasin’s case, more than one piece at a time!). The death at the end of the first volume continues to resonate in the life of each of the surviving family members, and it’s hard to imagine these people finding a true, wise equilibrium. What’s left by the last 80 pages or so is only the foundations, and even those are in question. But those last pages of the novel are powerful, and I think they justify the awful behavior that led up to the conclusion.
I found most of Palace of Desire very gripping, but there were a few disappointments. One is that the actual historical events didn’t seem as directly connected to the story as in the first volume. This story is much more ambiguous, less rooted in the political events of the time (though they are still discussed by the characters, occasionally).
I was also disappointed in Khadija. She is just really difficult in this story, and every time the narrative shifted to her for a few chapters, I would sigh inwardly, “Oh please, not a chapter about Khadija!” I hope she may find some maturity and redemption in the final volume.
In this book, Kamal becomes the primary protagonist—which is no surprise, since I assume he is meant to stand for Mahfouz himself. Kamal’s main motivation—Aïda, the beloved—becomes a bit tiresome, especially as it is perfectly clear from the start how it’s going to end up. I am most curious to see Kamal’s continuing development in the third book.
I enjoyed the discussion of the early career of Umm Kalthoum. That was a nice historical touch. And I also love Mahfouz’s style of beginning a chapter in such a way that you’re not quite sure which character’s mind you’re in until you’ve read a few paragraphs. The way he constructs scenes of dialogue, with characters’ internal dialogue coming before what they actually speak aloud, is brilliant.
Sugar Street
Ok, so I’m fine with a book that presents the frequent despair in the human condition. I don’t mind characters who doubt the foundations of their lives, and a bit of tragedy happening in a novel is acceptable and necessary. But the extent to which Mahfouz refuses his characters the briefest glimmer of hope and joy becomes wearying by the third book. For me, the pinnacle was when Aisha’s daughter dies in childbirth. I just could hardly believe that Mahfouz would subject that poor woman to yet more tragedy. What is it that Mahfouz wants to show us through this incessant despair?
One key may be a line that ends a chapter about people taking shelter during a nighttime air raid: “In this brief moment of darkness, life had reminded careless people of its incomparable value” (1174). Perhaps Mahfouz has crafted this extended “moment of darkness” simply to remind the reader of life in all of its joys and sorrows. In following the members of this family through the streets of Cairo over decades, we see the depths of human nature—lustfulness, lack of self-control (or misplaced, excessive discipline), paralyzing doubt, seemingly pointless political maneuvering, along with uncontrollable tragedy. It’s an uncomfortable mirror held up for us to look into, that we can contemplate our own weaknesses, and the sorrows that come upon us, unlooked for and unexpected. After taking this journey with Mahfouz, hopefully we have eyes so desperate to see light in the world around us that we will seek it out in ways that we might not have before—and seek to be that light for other people.
Reflecting on the trilogy as a whole, a couple of things stand out to me. One is the suffocating nature of the Cairo setting. Not that Cairo itself is presented in an uncomplimentary way—but there seems to be no escape. The family members hear news (increasingly, especially in the third volume, which speeds through the years) from the world outside of Egypt, and they have acquaintances who set off for other parts of the world (Kamal’s friends, in particular, seem freer to leave their homeland than any other characters do). Yet there is an intense gravity that keeps them rooted to the same place, giving the story an almost claustrophobic feeling. It’s as though Mahfouz is relentlessly forcing us to stay with these characters, denying them the life changes that would naturally happen if they could just get out of Cairo for a while (though it doesn’t seem that fleeing Egypt is healthy for many of the characters who do have the opportunity)—like, a change of scenery would be a false way of distracting them from their real, internal struggles. It’s an interesting, infuriating technique for a novel—especially a series of novels that runs to as many pages as this one does.
The other recurring theme that affected me was the way that there is no foundation for stability for these characters. These are characters who at least pass through phases of devout religious faith, yet that faith always seems a little distant. It’s more of a magic talisman than a present help for real-life trauma and struggle. It’s a constant, nagging presence in the story, but it’s always ambiguous. Is Amina right to cling to her hopes as she visits the shrine every day? I think so—and I think Mahfouz thinks so—but this novel is never going to admit outright that it’s a worthy activity that does any good in the world. Kamal’s constant doubt and questioning never resolves itself; Yasin remains devout and yet absurd; other characters have varying perspectives on belief, but nothing that brings lasting, tangible joy to their lives.
The other typically solid foundation in life is family—which is by far one of the dominant themes of these books. Yet here again, family doesn’t offer much worthwhile guidance for life. The sons follow in their father’s footsteps—even unknowingly, at first—but there is no possibility of open communication, by which the father might impart some wisdom before they squander their lives on the same lusts. When Kamal’s heart is broken by Aïda, there’s no one to come alongside him and assure him that such young crushes are perfectly normal, or show him how to move on in life. Instead, he falls into sensual lusts and drinking, blind to the fact that it’s these very behaviors that keep him from seeing the world, and his own life, truthfully. None of al-Sayyid Ahmad’s children try to replicate the kind of household they were subjected to, yet none of them seems to know quite how to establish a household at all. Much of the novel—especially from the second volume onward—finds the entire family in a liminal state (modeled externally by Aisha and internally by Kamal). They’re not quite what they started out as, but they haven’t yet become anything else distinct. They walk through life, wondering what happened to them, but they find no answers. At the conclusion of the story, it’s hard to imagine that that family will still be a cohesive unit after another generation or two. (And if Yasin is the one who transmits the family lore, then the next generations won’t even know what really happened. “What is truth?”)
The Cairo Trilogy is a fascinating, depressing, challenging story. I’m glad to have spent some months working my way through it, though I’m also glad to look at my own life and see joy and hope and light.
kipahni's review against another edition
4.0
I audibly huff while reading this book. It also was pointed out to me by my husband that I said "Arg" like a pirate a few times as well.
But I can not help it. Everything that I love and hate about Egyptian Culture is told beautifully in this somewhat "daytime soap" drama. I call it soap because my american view point see's it that way, and yet the story he tells is not so far fetched as that some of my own neighbors are living out very similiar dramas.
I am not finished with this Magnus Opus of Mafouz's but Here are a collection of thoughts so far (stars are pending on the ending of the book)
1. All of his woman are either Saintly Woman, or lurid whores. Which at first I found irritated but then come to realize that this is a general view of a lot of Egyptian men (not all, but a lot).
2. Some cultural significance might be lost in the western mind who is unfamiliar with Egyptian culture. Like the flow of conversation may seem odd or when there is a big shame in the family, in the western mind it may think "What's the big deal?"
more to come later
I decide to give a 4 because, it either should have ended like 200 pages ago or gone on another 200 more, the ending was a little weak. If you are reading to escape, or to enjoy/despise a character then this is a good choice.
Some things to keep in mind when reading this
1. The men treat woman as a commadity and the only redeeming virtue she has is if she is a virgin when she marries and if she can bear and raise children. This is still apparent in rural villages and traces are still felt 50 years later. Mahfouz is giving an acurate account of how the majority of woman are viewed and view themself. (in one part a college girl only went to get an education because she wanted to marry an educated man, not to expand her mind. A practice very common here still because most woman don't marry for love, a recent development in marraige, they marry for security)
2. People get places because of who they know not because of qualifications, so having a high status or knowing someone of high status is priority.
3. Woman are really that submissive in this culuture. It may seem unreal or fake in the book, but it is true. There hasn't been any Womens Lib-feminist movement so it is still extremely male dominate
4. You may laugh at the dichotomy of how the men lived (pious infront of their wives, strict adherant to Islam, and then sleeping around and giving in to all lustful pleasures) but in Islamic religion it is believed that if one just observe ramadan (the fasting month) then all past sins are forgiven (and I have been told that also any future sins) so it was permissible in their minds to behave accordingly.
I still am a little puzzled why Mahfouz makes some of his woman characters such lustful, sex crazed woman, but I think that too is chalked up to culture (One of the prevailing reasons FGM is still practiced is because woman are considered more sexually active and will have uncontrolled lust if she doesn't have the procedure done)
All in all a pretty acurate look into the society in Egypt during the early revolutionary years (1900-1950 ish)
But I can not help it. Everything that I love and hate about Egyptian Culture is told beautifully in this somewhat "daytime soap" drama. I call it soap because my american view point see's it that way, and yet the story he tells is not so far fetched as that some of my own neighbors are living out very similiar dramas.
I am not finished with this Magnus Opus of Mafouz's but Here are a collection of thoughts so far (stars are pending on the ending of the book)
1. All of his woman are either Saintly Woman, or lurid whores. Which at first I found irritated but then come to realize that this is a general view of a lot of Egyptian men (not all, but a lot).
2. Some cultural significance might be lost in the western mind who is unfamiliar with Egyptian culture. Like the flow of conversation may seem odd or when there is a big shame in the family, in the western mind it may think "What's the big deal?"
more to come later
I decide to give a 4 because, it either should have ended like 200 pages ago or gone on another 200 more, the ending was a little weak. If you are reading to escape, or to enjoy/despise a character then this is a good choice.
Some things to keep in mind when reading this
1. The men treat woman as a commadity and the only redeeming virtue she has is if she is a virgin when she marries and if she can bear and raise children. This is still apparent in rural villages and traces are still felt 50 years later. Mahfouz is giving an acurate account of how the majority of woman are viewed and view themself. (in one part a college girl only went to get an education because she wanted to marry an educated man, not to expand her mind. A practice very common here still because most woman don't marry for love, a recent development in marraige, they marry for security)
2. People get places because of who they know not because of qualifications, so having a high status or knowing someone of high status is priority.
3. Woman are really that submissive in this culuture. It may seem unreal or fake in the book, but it is true. There hasn't been any Womens Lib-feminist movement so it is still extremely male dominate
4. You may laugh at the dichotomy of how the men lived (pious infront of their wives, strict adherant to Islam, and then sleeping around and giving in to all lustful pleasures) but in Islamic religion it is believed that if one just observe ramadan (the fasting month) then all past sins are forgiven (and I have been told that also any future sins) so it was permissible in their minds to behave accordingly.
I still am a little puzzled why Mahfouz makes some of his woman characters such lustful, sex crazed woman, but I think that too is chalked up to culture (One of the prevailing reasons FGM is still practiced is because woman are considered more sexually active and will have uncontrolled lust if she doesn't have the procedure done)
All in all a pretty acurate look into the society in Egypt during the early revolutionary years (1900-1950 ish)
merv_d's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
stephrampton's review against another edition
informative
reflective
relaxing
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
nickfourtimes's review
challenging
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
1) "She woke at midnight. She always woke up then without having to rely on an alarm clock. A wish that had taken root in her awoke her with great accuracy. For a few moments she was not sure she was awake. Images from her dreams and perceptions mixed together in her mind. She was troubled by anxiety before opening her eyes, afraid sleep had deceived her. Shaking her head gently, she gazed at the total darkness of the room. There was no clue by which to judge the time. The street noise outside her room would continue until dawn. She could hear the babble of voices from the coffeehouses and bars, whether it was early evening, midnight, or just before daybreak. She had no evidence to rely on except her intuition, like a conscious clock hand, and the silence encompassing the house, which revealed that her husband had not yet rapped at the door and that the tip of his stick had not yet struck against the steps of the staircase.
Habit woke her at this hour. It was an old habit she had developed when young and it had stayed with her as she matured. She had learned it along with the other rules of married life. She woke up at midnight to await her husband's return from his evening's entertainment. Then she would serve him until he went to sleep. She sat up in bed resolutely to overcome the temptation posed by sleep. After invoking the name of God, she slipped out from under the covers and onto the floor. Groping her way to the door, she guided herself by the bedpost and a panel of the window. As she opened the door, faint rays of light filtered in from a lamp set on a bracketed shelf in the sitting room. She went to fetch it, and the glass projected onto the ceiling a trembling circle of pale light hemmed in by darkness. She placed the lamp on the table by the sofa. The light shone throughout the room, revealing the large, square floor, high walls, and ceiling with parallel beams. The quality of the furnishings was evident: the Shiraz carpet, large brass bed, massive armoire, and long sofa draped with a small rug in a patchwork design of different motifs and colors."
2) "She could not keep herself from saying with a laugh, 'What a man you are! On the outside you are dignified and pious, but inside you're licentious and debauched. Now I really believe what I was told about you.'
Al-Sayyid Ahmad sat up with interest and asked, 'What were you told? ... May God spare us the evil of what people say.'
'They told me you're a womanizer and a heavy drinker.'
He sighed audibly in relief and commented, 'I thought it would be criticism of some fault, thank God.'"
3) "She was filled with resentment and anger but concealed that deep inside her so as not to appear displeased by her sister's happiness. She did not care to expose herself, as her suspicious nature made her think she might, to the abuse of anyone wishing to revile her. In any case, there was no alternative to suppression of her emotions, because in this family that was an ingrained custom and a moral imperative established by threat of paternal terror. Between her hatred and resentment on one side and concealment and pretended delight on the other, her life was a continual torment and an uninterrupted effort."
4) "Although members of this family, like most other people, were subject to feelings of anger, they never were so afflicted that their hearts were hostile in a consistent or deep-rooted fashion. Some of them had a capacity for anger like that of alcohol for combustion, but their anger would be quickly extinguished. Then their souls would be tranquil and their hearts full of forgiveness. Similarly in Cairo, during the winter, the sky can be gloomy with clouds and it even drizzles, but in an hour or less the clouds will have scattered to reveal a pure blue sky and a laughing sun."
5) "'You should be serious about serious things and playful when you play. There's an hour for your Lord and an hour for your heart.'"
6) "The breakfast group broke up. Al-Sayyid Ahmad retired to his room. The mother and Zaynab were soon busy with their daily chores. Since it was a sunny day with warm spring breezes, one of the last of March, the three brothers went up on the roof, where they sat under the arbor of hyacinth beans and jasmine. Kamal got interested in the chickens and settled down by their coop. He scattered grain for them and then chased them, delighted with their squawking. He picked up the eggs he found.
His brothers began to discuss the thrilling news that was spreading by word of mouth. A revolution was raging in all areas of the Nile Valley from the extreme north to the extreme south. Fahmy recounted what he knew about the railroads and telegraph and telephone lines being cut, the outbreak of demonstrations in different provinces, the battles between the English and the revolutionaries, the massacres, the martyrs, the nationalist funerals with processions with tens of coffins at a time, and the capital city with its students, workers, and attorneys on strike, where transportation was limited to carts."
7) "Once the revolution knocked on his door, threatened his peace and security and the lives of his children, its flavor, complexion, and import were transformed into folly, madness, unruliness, and vulgarity. The revolution should rage on outside. He would participate in it with all his heart and donate to it as generously as he could. ... He had done that. But the house was his and his alone. Any member of his household who talked himself into participating in the revolution was in rebellion against him, not against the English."
8) "He felt temptation inside and outside him. But which was the voice and which the echo? Even more marvelous was the life throbbing in material objects around them. The flowerpots whispered as they rocked back and forth. The pillars exchanged secrets. As the sky gazed down with starry, sleep-filled eyes at the earth, it spoke. He and his companion exchanged messages expressing their inmost feelings while a glow, both visible and invisible, confounded their hearts and dazzled their eyes. Something was at work in the world, tickling people until they were plunged into laughter. A look, word, gesture, anything was enough to induce all of them to laugh. Time fled as quickly as youth. The waiters carrying the fermented germ of exuberance distributed it to all the tables with grave faces. The tunes of the piano seemed to come from far away and were almost drowned out by the clattering wheels of the streetcar. On the sidewalk rowdy boys and men collecting cigarette butts created a commotion like the drone of flies, as night's legions set up camp in the district."
9) "In the shadows he had no hesitation or embarrassment about talking to himself. The canopy of branches shielded him from the sky, the fields stretching off to his right absorbed his ideas, and the waters of the Nile, flowing past him on the left, swallowed his feelings. But he had to avoid the light. He needed to be careful not to get caught by its bright ring, for fear of having to take off like a circus wagon trailed by boys and curiosity seekers. Then he could kiss his reputation, dignity, and honor goodbye. He had two personalities. One was reserved for friends and lovers, the other presented to his family and the world. It was this second visage that sustained his distinction and respectability, guaranteeing him a status beyond normal aspirations. But his caprice was conspiring against the respectable side of his character, threatening to destroy it forever.
He saw the bridge with its glowing lights ahead of him and wondered where he should go. Since he wanted more solitude and darkness, he did not cross over but continued straight ahead, taking the Giza road."
10) "They all laughed. Kamal removed his spectacles and began to clean the lenses. He was capable of losing himself rapidly in a conversation, especially if he liked the person and if the atmosphere was relaxed and pleasant.
Kamal said, 'I'm a tourist in a museum where nothing belongs to me. I'm merely a historian. I don't know where I stand.'"
11) "Shortly thereafter the all-clear siren sounded, and the shelter's denizens voiced a profound sigh of relief. Kamal said, 'The Italians were just teasing us.'
They left the shelter in the dark, like bats, as doors emitted one ghostly figure after another. Then a faint glimmer of light could be seen coming from windows, and the world resumed its normal commotion.
In this brief moment of darkness, life had reminded careless people of its incomparable value."
12) "'I consent to your conditions. But let me tell you frankly that I was hoping to win an affectionate woman, not merely an analytical mind.'
As her eyes followed the swimming duck, she asked, 'To tell you that she loves you and will marry you?'
'Yes!'
She laughed and inquired, 'Do you think I'd discuss the details if I had not agreed in principle?'
He squeezed her hand gently, and she added, 'You know it all. You just want to hear it.'
'I'll never grow tired of hearing it.'"
13) "Turning to the silent bride, Sawsan asked affectionately, 'What does Karima think about her husband's beard?'
Karima hid her laughter by ducking her crowned head but said nothing. Zanuba answered for her, 'Few young men are as pious as Abd al-Muni'm.'
Khadija remarked, 'I admire his piety, which is a characteristic of our family, but not his beard.'
Laughing, Ibrahim Shawkat said, 'I must acknowledge that both my sons - the Believer and the apostate - are crazy.'
Yasin roared his mighty laugh and commented, 'Insanity is also a characteristic of our family.'"
14) "'She's paralyzed, and the doctor says it will all be over in three days.'
Riyad looked glum and inquired, 'Can't anything be done?' Kamal shook his head disconsolately and remarked, 'Perhaps it's lucky that she's unconscious and knows nothing of the destiny awaiting her.' When they were seated, he added in an ironic tone,'But who among us knows what destiny awaits us?'
Riyad smiled without replying. Then Kamal continued: 'Many think it wise to make of death an occasion for reflection on death, when in truth we ought to use it to reflect on life.'"
15) "He told the man, when Yasin was finished, 'A black necktie, please.'
Each one took his package, and they left the store. The setting of the sun was washing the world with a sepia tint as side by side they walked back to the house."
thebookishepicure's review
challenging
dark
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.5
astrangewind's review
emotional
inspiring
lighthearted
reflective
relaxing
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
This is the most beautiful work of fiction I think I have ever read.
With each passing chapter - and there are a lot of them - I am increasingly stunned by Mahfouz's ability to create and maintain such a nuanced and myriad cast of characters. Each character - again, there are a lot of them - is always self-consistent, even over the course of the 30-ish years the trilogy spans. The inquisitive Kamal, who begins this journey as a very young boy who understands little and asks a lot, develops an interest in philosophy; for the duration of the book, he remains the same Kamal, just weathered by age and heartache. Mahfouz elegantly captures the wide range of what it means to be human. Not only do these characters exist in a time of political upheaval surrounding Egyptian independence and the buildup to WWII, they get married and then divorced, have affairs, drink coffee or wine with friends, experience the death of loved ones, learn things about their place in the world, and everything else that I, too, experience a century later. There are staunch Muslims and atheists, nationalists and socialists, philosophers and those rooted firmly in the world of the real... and each of these characters is built with the immense depth that every living person has inside of them, too. I felt truly connected to these fictional people from a far different place and time than I.
This trilogy is sad, but not because of Mahfouz. It's sad because things happen in life - we experience heartbreak, disappointments, the loss of friends, and so on. The things that make life sad also make this trilogy sad, because it follows life's natural path. In that way, it is also happy, and tense, and infuriating, and every other human emotion. Everything, from the political climate to religion to death in the abstract, is humanized, brought down to the simple act of needing to purchase a necktie or dusting the shutters.
Unfortunately, I have one major qualm: the translation. As I can't read Arabic, I can't guarantee that Mahfouz's work is accessible to those who can, but the English translation prevented me from advancing very far in this book the first time I attempted to read it. (Clearly, I was successful on the second attempt.) The conversations initially felt awkward and forced; people don't really talk like that, even people who lived in the 1920s. It grew on me after a time, but I worry that this particular translation would make this incredible work inaccessible to the average English-speaker.
I would recommend this book to people who are already avid readers, as it is quite a bit hefty and at times dense. But what a beautiful book it is.
With each passing chapter - and there are a lot of them - I am increasingly stunned by Mahfouz's ability to create and maintain such a nuanced and myriad cast of characters. Each character - again, there are a lot of them - is always self-consistent, even over the course of the 30-ish years the trilogy spans. The inquisitive Kamal, who begins this journey as a very young boy who understands little and asks a lot, develops an interest in philosophy; for the duration of the book, he remains the same Kamal, just weathered by age and heartache. Mahfouz elegantly captures the wide range of what it means to be human. Not only do these characters exist in a time of political upheaval surrounding Egyptian independence and the buildup to WWII, they get married and then divorced, have affairs, drink coffee or wine with friends, experience the death of loved ones, learn things about their place in the world, and everything else that I, too, experience a century later. There are staunch Muslims and atheists, nationalists and socialists, philosophers and those rooted firmly in the world of the real... and each of these characters is built with the immense depth that every living person has inside of them, too. I felt truly connected to these fictional people from a far different place and time than I.
This trilogy is sad, but not because of Mahfouz. It's sad because things happen in life - we experience heartbreak, disappointments, the loss of friends, and so on. The things that make life sad also make this trilogy sad, because it follows life's natural path. In that way, it is also happy, and tense, and infuriating, and every other human emotion. Everything, from the political climate to religion to death in the abstract, is humanized, brought down to the simple act of needing to purchase a necktie or dusting the shutters.
Unfortunately, I have one major qualm: the translation. As I can't read Arabic, I can't guarantee that Mahfouz's work is accessible to those who can, but the English translation prevented me from advancing very far in this book the first time I attempted to read it. (Clearly, I was successful on the second attempt.) The conversations initially felt awkward and forced; people don't really talk like that, even people who lived in the 1920s. It grew on me after a time, but I worry that this particular translation would make this incredible work inaccessible to the average English-speaker.
I would recommend this book to people who are already avid readers, as it is quite a bit hefty and at times dense. But what a beautiful book it is.
Content Warnings
Graphic: War
Moderate: Sexual assault, Alcoholism, Sexual harassment, Alcohol, Stalking, Incest, and Rape
Minor: Suicidal thoughts, Drug use, Drug abuse, Religious bigotry, Death of parent, Antisemitism, Dementia, Addiction, and Colonisation