Harvard Book Store; WGBH Forum Network; Rabih Alameddine: The Hakawati

Tonight I'm very excited. Welcome Rabiya Almudena to Harvard bookstore. To read from his novel The hacker Wati. Mr. Almudena is the author of three previous books including The Divine. He's also a successful painter and his work has been exhibited in galleries around the world. He is the recipient of a Guggenheim fellowship and he divides his time but his time between San Francisco and Beirut. In Arabic the word HAIKERWAL do you mean something close to but more then storyteller and Mr. Almudena novel is a story about telling stories. Osama al Al-Qur'an has returned home to Beirut from the United States to stand with his family at his father's deathbed a family of storytellers. The novel progresses as a series of framed interwoven Tales from the family from history from literature and religion. The New York Times Book Review called the haka why the stunning work that expands our narrow vision transforming into one of multiplicity and chancing it with hope we will follow. Mr. Almudena reading the question answer session and we will end with the book signing right here at this table.

Copies of the huck Awadi are available up the registers. We do ask that you purchase your copy before having it signed. And as always I thank those of you who didn't purchase a book tonight. By doing so. As far as a local independent bookstore and this author series make it possible for Harvard bookstores to bring outstanding storytellers like Robbie Almaden to you. So please join me in welcoming him to the podium. Hi. Thank you so much for coming. I really appreciate it. Thank you. To add to his introduction there's the heck of what it means a storyteller and it's a little different than regular storytellers Because in and out part of the world there's more sort of the difference between Western performers and Middle East performance particularly Arabic performance is audience interaction. Basically For example if a storyteller comes up to start to read

people can start heckling. Heckling is encouraged. Just don't be mean and too delicate. So it's basically more than just the performers sitting up here and reading the audience interaction does not include cell. If you have them please turn them off please. In any case the book is a novel it's a family story but it's it's divided into many different stories and it's always difficult to pick which ones to read. So forgive me if I pick the wrong ones. I will read either three or four sections depending on the time. And this is the way audience interaction comes in. If you don't want me to read say the first section just listen.

Allow me to be your God let me take you on a journey beyond imagining. Let me tell you a story along a long time ago and Ymir lived in a distant land in a beautiful city a green city with many trees an exquisite gurgling fountains whose sound lulled the citizens to sleep at night. Now they had everything except for the one thing his heart desire. He had well earned and inherited his beautiful wife. He had health. He had health and good teeth. He had status charm respect his beautiful wife loved his clan looked up to him. He had a good pedicurist twenty years he had been married twelve lovely girls but no son. What to do. He called his Vizier. Why his visit he said. I need your help. My lovely wife has been unable to deliver me a son as you know each of my Twelve girls is more beautiful than the other. They have milk white skin as smooth as the finest look

from China the glistening pearls from the Arabian Gulf paled next to their eyes. The less said of their hair outshines the black dyes from the land of sand. The oldest has seventeen poets singing her praises my daughters have given me much pleasure much to be proud of. Yet I yearn to see an offspring with a little penis running around my courtyard. A boy to carry my name and my honor. If future leader of our clan. I am at a loss my wife says we should try once more. But I cannot put her through all this again for another girl. Tell me what can I do to ensure her boy. The vizir for the thousands upon thousands time suggested his master take a second wife before it is too late. My lord it is obvious that your wife will not produce a boy. We must find someone who will. My man my liege is the only man within these borders who has only one wife. The emir had rejected the

suggestion countless times and that day would be no different. He looked wistfully out onto his garden. I cannot marry another my dear Vizier. I am terribly in love with my wife. She can be onery now and then vain for sure. But you lent an impetuous silly at times ill disposed toward the help even malicious and malevolent when angry. But still she has always been the one for me. Then produce the son with one of your slaves. Fatema. The Egyptian would be an excellent candidate. Her hips are more than adequate. Her breast had been measured in tremendous nominee. If I say so myself but I have no wish to be with another. Sarah offered her Egyptian slave to her husband to produce a boy if it was good enough for our profit. It can be good enough for us that night in their bedroom. The Emir and his wife discuss their problem. His wife agreed with the vizir. I know you want a son she said but I believe it has gone beyond your desires. The

situation is dire. Our people talk or wonder what will happen when you are sent to heaven. Who will lead our tribes. I believe some may wish to ask the question sooner. I will build on that immediately. I will destroy them. Who dares question how I choose to live my life. Settle down and be reasonable. You can have intercourse with Fatema until she conceives. She is pretty available and amenable. We can have our boy through her but I do not think I can. His wife smiled as she stood. What not has happened. I will attend and I will do that thing you enjoy. I will call Fatema and we can inform her of what we want. We will set an appointment for Wednesday night. A full moon when Fatima was told of their intentions. She did not hesitate. I am always at your service she said. However if the imune wishes to have a son with his own wife there is another way

in my home town of Alexandria. I know a woman whose powers are unmatched. She is directly descended female line from ankor herself is healer and keeper of the ASP's. If she is given a lock of my mistress's hair she will be able to see why my mistress has not produced the boy and will give out the appropriate remedy. She never fail but that is outstanding. Let me explain. I haven't sent my dear Fatima. We must fix this healer right away. Fatima shook her head. Oh no my lord. A healer can never leave her home. It is where her magic comes from. She would be helpless and useless if she were uprooted. Here my travel begin. But in the end to come into her full power she can never stray too far from home. I can travel with the luck of my mistress's hair and return with the remedy. Then go you must get me as I said the emir added. And may God guide you and liked your way.

So this is the first section at which time I take break and take some water and a part of the audience interaction if you just fall. Into it. See that's part of audience interaction as well. So this next section. The narrator of the book is Osama. And at this point he's about 12 or 13 times probably in 1972 1973. He had just attended his grandfather's funeral. I assume most of you here know that in the Middle East whether it's Jewish or Muslim or Christian or in this case even Druze funerals tend to be the little bit over the top.

You mean little bit. And the boy is traumatized. So in the section his uncle uncle Jihad is trying to make him feel better. Are you feeling bad and asked Uncle you had was at the funeral. Why did everybody have to shout so much I asked. Aren't we supposed to have silent funerals. He sipped his drink slowly seem to be having conversation with the ceiling and not me in principle but not in practice. How will the dead know that we love them. You know darling funerals used to be much more dramatic when I was your age believe it or not. They are quite are now more sedate. He hand took another sip. Why I can just imagine what they will be like when you're my age. Now probably no one will show up. Bang bang bang and it's over. Mourners would arrive only if alcohol is being served

like it. Irish funerals. By the way I read this in Ireland. They weren't too pleased. Here I know why shrug of washrag over his head. It's only the funeral. My sweet. You know some people flagellate themselves on the first day the third day the week and the 40 year. It's a never ending process. We have crazy funerals and that's it. We're much more sane. Don't you think I assumed the question was rhetorical. You're not buying any of this are you. I shook my head. Well it's a long long time ago he began when the Mongol hordes ran amok in our world. When Jenkins can scorch the deserts of China and plundered the rest of the world after the barbarian King had burned that its final MBRD actually massacred one hundred thousand in Damascus and watch the street covered in rivers of blood after the Mongol general descended upon our fertile lands. My story begins. The General's brother to was bored.

Can I ask. That's a bad pun. That's not even so good. You'd laugh a lot harder if you were Lebanese. Don't interrupt my boy he replied his eyes aloft still wear white said dark and revivified. I'm on a roll. Khan was bored bored not purred. Now that's bad. Listen Duke had decided to have a feast. He brought the seven best cooks in the region and demanded that they create the greatest meal that ever been served. The cooks Doyle and slaved and came up with seven courses. The first course was exquisite. One oyster on a bed of lemon poori two can ate it in one bite and whipped for the taste was glorious to ensure that no one else would share the taste and thereby dilute his experience to Conehead the cook. We had

the second course with soup a book an apple consumed me so thin so clear so delectable and its creator was beheaded. Third was sauteed sandals. Fourth was grilled pheasant. Faith was philémon you off with all their heads. The sixth was rack of lamb of course too. I could not believe his tongue Hejaz extended farther moved toward the plate. Within minutes his mouth was a hands with in front of his face. Two can I said. Precisely. And we killed the penultimate cook. Now the seventh Cook was Beirut. He was no fool and was in no mood to be killed. He made creme brulee using the milk of cards that had drunk water in using the milk of cows that had drunk their water from the Litani River took on his first bite and wept again. Creamy smooth impeccable but before his second bite his stomach crumbled. He licked the spoon in his stomach.

He had a bowel movement before the third bite and it wouldn't relent. The never ending stool BLUB BLUB diarrhoea dysentery come didn't have time to move. He saw dispence and the glorious Paisley infected textile had been sitting on. I'm quite all right to cancel it but he really wasn't. He lost five kilos within the first hour. Three more in the second and another three in the third rumble rumble. His stomach wouldn't stop self-evacuated. He refused to sleep sitting up and had a slave placed him on the edge of his bed with his ankle in stirrups so his stool could fight out unincumbered Boom-Boom all night. His daddy was so explosive he was hitting the wall across the room painting an abstract expressionist mural. Nothing great. Mind you mediocre painting informed by Lee Krasner by morning Dukan was dead wasted away into a stigma. The bereave Jenkins

refused to have his brother buried in exile for his soul would remain on Earth eternally searching for home Jenkins. Jenkins would bury him with their ancestors. Grief sadness and grief sadness sorrow unmangled funeral march began but grief sadness and sorrow weren't enough to commemorate a man as great as you can. And my uncle's voice grew deeper more serious. No it wasn't enough along the way. The funeral procession killed every living thing it encountered. Entire villages cities men women children generations of babies not yet born animals birds trees shrubs flowers forests everything was smashed along the path from Beirut to land but more viscous trail of death and devastation to mark the funeral journey. He got the rest of his scotch. I waited for him to say something. I guess we have it better now I said. He smiled nodded. I

laughed nervously. So when did he matter Rita Hayworth. Stop there. My uncle laughed. That's another story. Now you're telling me that Juncus can destroy Beirut as well. I thought it was Hulagu conquered the Middle East. Should I trust you. Never trust the teller he said. Trust the tale. So that's the second part. What a break. No no no not that that's too involved. And I have to apologize. But reading I need reading glasses now. I got my first letter from the breed this week so I'm a little weirded out. But they are a little difficult to read with reading glasses on stage so I'm excusing that for my nervousness. OK this one does not need

an introduction it's just sort of his short fairy tale. Once not too long ago there was a little boy about the same age as you lived with this family in a small village not unlike this one. Not too far from here. The family did not have much money. The father was a stonemason. The mother looked after the house cook delicious meals all the children had their own chores to do. Our boy was the family's shepherd. Every morning he would take the sheep out to pasture. He watched him graze make sure they did not wander and protected them from foxes wolves and marauding hyenas. The sheep liked him and trusted him. So they didn't stray far from our boy. His job became easy and every day he had time to play. At first he played with sticks and stones. He made a sheep pen by sticking twigs in four corners small stones where his sheep. But then the little

lambs came into his Make-Believe Ben clamor of stammering for his attention so he stopped playing with sticks and stones and became one of the Lambs jumped with them bent down and pretended to chew on the wild lavender bushes bleated with them. When he returned home that evening he wished he were a lamb because he had fun playing before he went to sleep. He had disbands arguing about money. We have so many mouths to feed mother said. How can we find. How can we find enough for all of them. We have the sheep the father said. We have some money. I am working will survive. We have for generations but they kept on arguing and the boy slept fitfully. The following day he and the lambs played again. What overbuy the use. The boy and the lambs ran and jumped and jostled each other. He returned home very happy but when he opened the door to tell his parents all about his day he found them arguing.

How could you have promised that. The mother asked. We don't have enough to feed our children. And now you want to have a feast. Have you no conscience. Don't you understand how bad our situation is. How dare you. The father yelled at the mother. This is the Bay we're talking about. It's an honor when he comes here. The house will be blessed. I don't understand how you can think of not wanting him in your home. Most people would die for the opportunity. The mother whispered What has the day done for my family. The father slapped the mother. The boy ran into his room before he fell asleep. Our boy prayed. He wished he were a lamb and could play all day without any worries. He wished his family could be happy. He wished that he could be the one to provide them with happiness. He loved his family so much. He woke up. He woke up the next day in the ship and he looked around and saw all his friends. The other lambs happy that he was in their midst. Finally one of them

they bleated enjoy all of them pranced up and down the father and mother came out of the house together and work and walked and walked with the pen. Danger danger said the eldest to the evil ones are here. No no said our boy they are not evil. They are my family. When those two show up together another sheep said one of us disappears. The father and mother came into the pen. They tried to figure which lamp to pick. Look at me the boy yelled. Look at me. Look at me. This one the mother said he is noisy it looks plump and juicy The father added. He placed a noose around his boy's head and walked him out of the pen. The poor lamb. The eldest you said as a sheep watched him being taken away. Daddy daddy the little lamb said I'm a lamb now isn't this a miracle. And his father took out the knife and slit his throat and the little lamb watch his

own blood leave him and his father cut off his head and his father hanging from his ankle to drain him and his mother began to skin him with their own hands. She would lift a small part of his skin bunched between skin and body lift. Punch left punch until she finally got the lash out that skin at the ankles and chin. Then she chopped off his hands and feet and she took out all of his insides and his mother cooked him over a slow burning fire. His father waited. His mother cooked his brothers helped set up the lunch table under the giant oak. His sisters clean the house and cleaned and cleaned. They got dressed in all the fineries. By lunchtime they were lined up waiting. The mother wondered where our boy was. His brother suggested he must be daydreaming somewhere as usual. He had gotten out of doing the chores the sneaky brat the family waited and waited and waited. Finally the mayor arrived and said the boy had decided not to come to the village. The lamb was placed in the middle of

the table. The whole family salivated you are dead yourself. The father told the mother. The lamb was particularly succulent the mother said and the boy felt his father say to him but your place children. The mother said we'll get to have a great meal for a change and the boy felt his brothers bite into his flesh. He felt his sister's jewel sumptuous pieces of him. This taste so good his brother said the best meal we've ever had. His sister said and the mother brought Ida brought out his stomach. His siblings fought over his intestines. You take this my dear. His father told his mother. I know you love it and you take this my dear. His mother told his father. For I know you love it and I am happy said the father and I am happy said the mother and the boy felt his mother bite into his testicles and the boy felt his father swallow a piece of his heart and the boy was happy.

My psychiatrist told me not to read this case so last one. This last one is narrated by Uncle jihad. He's telling us about when he was a little boy. So Uncle Jihad is probably around 12 or 13. The time in Beirut is 1943. So he is recalling his days with pigeons. My father had. My father has a speech and stories and I have mine for life like a good tale repeats itself. I noticed my first flock of pigeons in the skies of Beirut when I was a boy of 13. They were always there but like most people I'd been oblivious noticed their existence. And you begin to see them everywhere all the time.

I saw my first flock and ten minutes later I saw my second and then my third and fourth and all of a sudden my skies brimmed with pigeons. One afternoon while admiring of luck and flight I began to guess that the presence of magic I was able to discern the art as well as the logic of flight pattern. The realization was both gradual and instantaneous magic and as soon as I had my epiphany my eyes understood where to look for the locus of the sorcery. Though I couldn't see him the wizard himself must have been on the roof of the three storey old building below the school the following afternoon. I ran into the building and asked about the pigeons. The shopkeeper on the ground floor told me to go up to the roof. The pigeon fancier an aged man realized I was a smitten boy. He allowed me to walk and look at his surprised collections. There were five cages on the roof. Each of them bigger than my bedroom one cage had young

pigeons of different breeds. Another had only a couple pigeons. One was empty because the birds were being flown. I walked around and fell in love. I wanted to say something clever so that the pigeons would like me and I'd be able to visit again. But my mind was numb. He was obviously a gentleman but I wonder whether he let me come up a second time or third when he wouldn't. He quickly died over a young boy who wanted to spend time with pigeons. I got scared and started. Can I work for you. The pigeons looked me up and down he smiled and shook his head. No he said I was too young and obviously from too good of a family to work for him. I went from being taciturn to locations in less than a second. I told him that I could come every day after classes. He was only a few meters from the school and I was a fast learner and would do whatever he asked and never complained so that I looked like I was from a good family but I was going to a good school but I was from the mountains and my family was still up there and I really wanted to make sure Tommy

it became obvious that he was trying his best not to laugh out loud. He said he could only afford one lira a week which was a fortune and he knew it. Had I walked away when he told me he wouldn't hire me I would have failed the first test. He always said he knew the instant I came to the roof that I would end up a billionaire that reside in the arts as a twinkle in my eye. The man's name was Ali and he was a Shiite and he owned the old building. I showed up to work the following afternoon and founding arguing vociferously with Kim at Hernani and mock a man who looked like his identical twin except he was a catholic your brother of a whore wouldn't know what honor was if it smacked you on the side of the head on one side and the other would reply. Honor your low life want to talk to me about honor. They were both 71 at the time and they wore the exact same clothes except for the shoes jacket navy blue shirts and tailored pants that were worn in fray his shoes were black moccasins where his commands were Burgundy. Both pairs comfortably needed

by years of wear though their insults were getting worse and worse. They were standing close to each other in a relaxed posture. My Sherlock Holmes mind reasoned that their arguing was a common occurrence. It turned out that Denny and Ronnie had been best friends since they were six years old. They both they both swore to me that they had been insulting each other non-stop since 1898. They had lived through schooling work marriage family rearing widowhood to occupying powers one great war numerous small wars religious conflicts and independence without ever thinking of ceasing their rude insults. I felt I had entered the garden. This was my first interaction with the great city of the world. Of course I had been living there for over seven years since I was five but it seemed that I had only been a tourist. Like all cities Beirut had many layers and I had been familiar with one or two.

I was introduced to that day with Ali and Kemal was the Beirut of its people who take different groups put them on top of each other simmer for a thousand years keep adding more and more strange tribes simmer for another few thousand years. Salt and pepper with religion and what you get is a delightful mess of a stew that still day selectable and exotic no matter how many times you partake of it. These men seem to have been together for eons and since they do not have conversation long ago all that was left was ribbing and mockery and repeating the great tales each other at the first lull in the fall shouting match. Not just me standing there and pointed at me he said this is the young man I told you about without even allowing him to finish the sentence KAMAHL yell Run away young pup run as fast as your legs can take you. Stay away from this invertebrate of a man was only intention is to worm his life into the life of his betters and feed under laws for he has none of their own. See I

told you I had found home of course and he told me to ignore command and began to explain my duties. I had assumed I'd be cleaning up after the pigeons and feeding them but he already had another boy for that. No. He surprised me. He wanted me to seduce the birds confounding task if I say so myself make them fall in love with you. Ali said I want the pigeons to return home for you. I had no idea what he was talking about. I must have stood there staring at him like a fool which elicited gales of laughter from the two old coots. Don't worry young pup KAMAHL said. You'll soon understand lazy brain speech. He wants you to go into the cages with the birds and get them used to you. It's another one of those easy tasks that lazy brain can't master. So my job was to be with the pigeons. Spent time in the cages hold them and pet them if they liked me. That's what I understood and that's what I did. For the first few days I chop after school the elderly twins would be

chatting up a storm and arguing about little things and big things. I thought at first that there was nothing that they could agree on but I was wrong of course they could both agree that it was a lot of fun to tease me. Are you loving your loving those two tumblers enough come on with ask and Ollywood that look at that lemon. She seems to be moping because you're not paying enough attention to her. I get so flustered that I'd walk to the pigeons they were talking about and the pigeons would move out of my reach. I thought I could never get them to love me. Yes I was that gullible It was a wonderful part of Istanbul that I made a great deal beautiful to look at. Duckery feathers speckled with white and an orange. That seemed to have been inflated with an air pump. They'd grown to an immense size as big as chickens. They were inseparable and the cock seemed totally smitten with his mate. He'd go to her and she loved it four or five days after I had started.

I was watching them and my world seemed to shrink the size of those lovers. She strolled up on the ground jerkily pecking at Seeds and he followed her every step going and engrossed She stopped and turned toward him and he knows it'll turn back. Then he started to stroll and she followed. You're beautiful I said to them. I realized that I had spoken outloud to a pair of birds. I looked around and the twins seemed bemuse. You do know how to pick your boys command said dryly. It was the first time I'd heard one addressed the other without a slur. After that the volcano releases pressure and I began to talk to the two the pigeons incessantly. I talked to them about everything. I told them how lovely they were. I wanted them of the dangers of the world complimented them on their choice of partner. I talked and talked and and KAMAHL had found a boy who was going to entertain them for a

long time. The pigeons did respond. They may not have understood a word I said but they began to enjoy the sound of my voice when I when I ran out of things to say. I just prattle and you can probably figure out what happened. I talked and talked and one day I started on what I do best for my audience. Pigeons and humans I began to tell stories. Thank you. I collected stories by reading a lot and hearing a lot. I mean I always I'm always asked you know is there anybody in my family who was al-Kuwaiti. No. You know my grandfather was a medical doctor. You know my grandmother plays ph. I've never had hecho idea I've never heard one I've never listened to one. I mean all died up. I don't know anything about pigeons or the old or or guitar or anything. I make all that up. I read a lot

but I was interested was hearing family stories so in you know when I got to Lebanon I told a friend that I'm writing a book I actually had been writing it for a while but once I figured out that it was I wanted it was a book of structure structured around storytelling. I told a friend that I'm looking for family stories within about two weeks. I started getting phone calls from people I had no idea what they were claimed to be my family and they wanted to tell me stories my aunts told me stories. I mean I was hearing stories left and right. So a lot of them were included in the book. The other stories came from you know Shakespeare of it's metamorphosis the thousand and one nights I write I read a lot. I steal from other writers. There were

tomb there are two main strands of the book there. Well three maybe more than that but let's just say three. There's the family story. Then there are two main stories. One is the story of 8:56 one is a story of. They both There's a traditional Hakodate this. I sided from the real one because I was lucky enough to find an actual book of equity. It was so confusing but it took me a long time to figure out that it was written by about five different people at least. But so I knew that I knew the standard story. I started with the standard story and then took it in a completely different tangent. The other story is the story of Fatima and the Fatima story is based on many myths but it's my creation the descent into the underworld is the Dudus in China and the Goddess Ishtar story it's repeated. And you know it's funny and

Demetre going into the underworld. It's the same story as the weaver aliens going to the border. It's the same story they always go down. You know so I started with that and then you know taking Majnoon and Layla and working with that and the twins. These are all sort of from various tales and fairy tales. But that was my creation. I wanted to do this thing where I wanted to get a heck of what is stale and make it my own change it completely and then get another tale and that that's sort of I created and make it sound like it's a heck of what is stale. Just for the hell of it. You got a couple of time big. Oh no no no no. You haven't got why they sent him to France yet. Theories are always evil because you need evil you need something to counteract. Otherwise you don't have a story so you need something and the visit is always sort of ambitious in one's power.

Just just think of George Bush actually one of the most fun I had was very few. There are a lot of jokes that are just meant for me. You know it's like there are some jokes that only Lebanese would understand. I'm just only an American would understand. I'm only someone who speaks French. There's like a reference to Melanie Griffith that just every time I look at it I laugh. Nobody gets it. But my favorite sort of inside joke was the Kings judge so he's sort of the vizir and he was born in Portugal and then comes to the you know Muslim empire and creates all this havoc and gets all these Western kings to invade you know Egypt. And so he's from prodigal's So I called him Arbusto which is Bush and Portuguese.

But nobody gets it. It's just about every time I look at this I said laughing. Then somebody told me that his company is oil company what's called or something like that here. So there's lots of little things like that. It's good to laugh you know. I mean it's like laughing at myself and laughing with myself because sometimes I think that nobody gets me so I just sit and don't know. Well partly partly it's it's an instinct you know. I mean I've I've listened to it. I always joke that for us Lebanese breathing is storytelling. I mean whatever happens somebody will sneeze and somebody will have a story about it. And so it comes naturally to us. But there's also there's a more important is is a word I would call editors.

You know I've been blessed that I have really good friends who read my work before it even goes to an editor. And because the first draft of this was thirteen hundred pages and I thought I seriously thought that you know there's nothing wrong with that. You know I did read in other pages and I thought it was all exciting. You know so luckily I had friends who slapped me around a little bit and that seriously before it goes to to the editor and then I was lucky enough to work with two great editors one who's a friend that I sent to her. And then they ganged up on me and I'm a terrible terrible terrible person. I argued and I mean and I hate to admit it now after all these time that they were right.

Especially for a writer like me I needed because I'm in my head all the time. I have no social life and this is not this is not trying to get sympathy unless unless you know somebody who is willing to go out on a date it's not it's it's just it's true. You know what goes on in my head I think is really clear for everybody just why I was a horrible horrible teacher. But luckily like I said I have good friends who are all good readers and I give one to somebody. You know I have my friend a son who's he coins himself the language Nazi. He will go through any time a word sounds out of place or something. I have another who goes for a lot. She's really good. She's a good writer and again pay you know so I could give my book every now and then to somebody and see what they think. So it starts getting

better but even the second 100 pages I never gave it till I sent it to my agent. And then you know just good editors. There's been it's still nothing really but there's been quite a few. You know it's like guess who still is a great writer. There's been more books published in the last five years from the Middle East. There's a big boom in Iranian writing. And you know we've gone beyond what I called the Shadow Ripper's not by the Stricker's. So we've gotten some really wonderful books from Iran. We've got we have you know hand shakes new memoir. We've got so there's been it's still trouble for me is not that what I mean this is a long discussion but I still still find troubling is that my book is still viewed

as exotic and in many ways it is exotic but it's not exotic because it's from the Middle East. It's exciting because we're But you know it's like when people discuss say American books or if my book would hardly come into the discussion you know we still have this. We're getting published we're getting heard and actually in many ways we're getting more publicity because we're exotic. But it would be interesting. One day you know to say Junot Diaz is a great American writer he's not an immigrant literature. It's not. He's an American writer. I'm an American writer. I'm also a Lebanese writer and an Asian writer. And anything that will help solve my book I'm a South American writer. But you know it's these little corners that were always placed and that I find troubling you know and I don't I don't kid myself I the only reason that this book has gotten publicity is

because it's supposed to open doors to the Arab world. Well I don't care to open books you know doors of the Arab world. I'm writing a book. I mean that's the sort of a second or a secondary benefit. You know I mean the New York Times review bless Laura and she was amazing. But then think about it for a second. It said that the book is a bridge to the Arab soul. There is one Arab soul and my book is a bridge. So you bet it is. Seriously this is it was an amazing review and I really appreciate it. And for most people that's what they see. That I opened the world to Lebanon where what if I tell you that you know what is in here is all my imagination. The Beirut that's in here is my imagination. The Beirut is in my mind is not the same as the Beirut as it exists. You'd probably have to read about

at least 50 Lebanese writers to get a glimpse of just like you would you wouldn't say you know if you want to know about America. Philip Roth. But we have no problem saying that about you know other books but again it's also still great because. Yes read my book you'll learn about Lebanon yes. No but it's an interesting it's an interesting thing where we are getting more published but I still think that there's we still looked at separately and. And that's not necessarily bad things in terms of salience because we're so old. And the reason there's any interest in my book as opposed to other great books that don't get it is because it's Lebanese. But sometimes I wonder how damaging that is. Oh because a great I mean the whole idea of a French tale is wonderful some of the best literature in terms of a thousand and one nights. I love the fact that everybody

thinks it's an Arabic story and the truth is that doesn't in one night is the first global literature we've ever had. Because stories were brought from all over the place. You know Aladdin is Chinese it's Indian Sheherazade is an Iranian name it has nothing to do sort of with but it's considered the Arabian Tales. So I love the fact that it's. But you have you know whether it's because she was the Decameron or you know the Canterbury Tales or so it's been around. There was there's nothing new in terms of what I did why I chose a that as a structure is because I love it. It gave me permission to to you know do things that I wouldn't do otherwise. So it took me four years of work. Not knowing what the hell I was doing. So I took the first easy oh sitting on a deathbed. Yes.

And that's been done so many times before. You know part of the thirteen hundred pages that were cut about 150 were more I don't know are on the deathbed and suffering. But I thought that was important. But yeah its stories are in many ways universal if you pick them up we're told. I mean one of my favorite lines and I can't remember where I read it was you know the first conquest of Mexico and they there was a priest there and he wrote back to the pope saying that they make they make fun of our tails because they had the virgin birth. They had the sacrifice of Christ everything except for the Catholic. Are we seeing this. Are they making fun of it. But it was the same story. So I love that. I also like the differences in terms of you know what makes

you know if we have the same stories why do we hate each other so much you know and it's it's differences. And every storyteller cannot you know keep his hands off a story you know if I tell a story I will tell it you know I'll start adding things and making things up. And I was such happiness that people believe these stories. And so they start emphasizing the differences instead of what's at the core. No no we were for the most part we are a family of readers and mostly on my mother's side. I mean I grew up first in Kuwait and there was nothing whatsoever. I mean at that time it was just pure desert. And my mother stayed at home. So I mean most of my early memories were she sits in one corner I sit in another and we

read and I mean in many ways I read anything that came into my mind you know at first it was comics. I actually do believe that I believe that we get all of our stories sort of before we and before I'd say even earlier than that. Those are the stories that leave their marks but with me my father my mother was around. My father was not I mean he had to work. And I am in many ways now grateful. But we were both separate because we were immigrants in Kuwait so I didn't have the family but in the summer we would move to Beirut in the mountains and then I'd be part of the huge family. And I'm talking cousins and second cousins and so my aunts would tell stories constantly and they

would for the Lebanese like I said one of my favorite things is gossip. They gossip like crazy. They can tell you. I mean I was doing a reading in New York and this woman came up and she asked to see me and I went to see her and I sort of I mean I recognized the name and she was a relative and I called you know afterwards I called my mom. She told me every single thing that has happened to her in her life you know and it becomes a tale. You know how she got divorced why she left him where and we don't know whether it's true or not. And my mother is not that much of it. You know she's not a great storyteller if I call it my at She'd probably make it really good really good. But then you know she told me about her sons and what her sons were doing and that she doesn't she hasn't seen her in 25 years.

So all these stories sort of I've I've heard them when I was a kid. So yes but they weren't storytellers in the sense of the word. So I grew up you know in a huge family and at the same time I grew up separate so I was reading a lot because there was nothing better to do and I mean I read by the age of 12 I read Harold Robbins you know Jacqueline Suzanne. No I went to English schools. I went into an American school and then at 15 I went to England at 17. I packed my bags and came over here. I mean House for Mr. Biswas is the book that. Shocked the hell out of me. I mean I read it at 16 and I was alone in a school in England and I hated everybody. And I still hate everybody but that was special.

And I was a foreigner and you know to read a novel where the main characters are Third-World or just like I am and that their life mattered just as much as it was. I mean to understand you have to remember the times and what it was like. His book was a revelation for me. I mean I can't think of well if you ask me tomorrow I'll tell you of a different book and the day after I tell you a different book. But that was one of the seminal books for me. And he I don't care whether he's a jerk or not because I met him many years but still I admire it because I didn't have any models in our part of the world. There were two careers and if you would go to if you're going to go to university you'd either go to medical school or engineering school or end this.

I mean this is not a put down if if your parents were rich and you were stupid they would send you to a liberal arts college. There was no possibility of anything else. I was good in math. I went into engineering. I mean I didn't know at the time. But where as you know all the other Lebanese were taking you know simple electives I was taking Shakespeare and I was like because I enjoyed it but I hadn't never occurred to me that I could take a degree in anything other than engineering. It never occurred to me you know and then the next was I got an MBA because I was stupid enough to think that I didn't want to do engineering. I hated it that I could get out of it. And the only program that I could get into that I would not have to take an undergraduate class in was an MBA. I got my master's degree. I was 23 24 and I really didn't I don't think I had any other options. I had no clue that anything like this could be done.

So it took a long time it took a long time for them for me sort of to find the courage to you know. And I knew that anything that I would write would be you know slightly offensive. So I was scared for a long time until one day I got dumped and my revenge was the book. Yes English. It's like I said I'm I'm in many ways I am an American and I can say it easier now with this administration. Oh please please. If you weren't you wouldn't be attending my reading I can tell you that. Actually there's a great story by the way in the New York Times today about Michelle Obama's

ancestry and it's really stunning. But anyway yes. I can't write in Arabic it's a very difficult language. I can read of course in it's the classical Arabic is not the language and I think in it all. So I think in English I sometimes can think in French and I think in Lebanese basically the best way to describe it and we can't write in Lebanese really. Yes so let's wrap it up. Thank you so much for. That.