Upon her passing, critics must reintroduce the late author, whose literary legacy was lost in the haze of time
Despite her reputation as one of the boldest Lebanese women writers at the peak of her career, Layla Baalbaki’s passing without much coverage on October 21, 2023, though delivering a shock throughout the Arab literary world, did not come as a surprise given the journalist and writer’s retreat from the spotlight since the 60s. Baalbaki was the first Lebanese woman tried in court for “outraging public decency” with her short story collection, “Spaceship of Tenderness to the Moon” (1963). The late writer’s life has been shrouded in mystery since she departed from literary fiction, even more so after her death. As many recall the impact of her works, others speculate on her short-lived literary career in equal fervor: why did Layla Baalbaki stop writing? Did she leave behind any notes or a memoir about her life before her passing? Without the woman herself to confirm or deny, any answers remain mere speculation.
Khalil al-Neimi Exposes What Tyranny Has Done to His Homeland
By Elie Chalala
I feel an affinity with Khalil al-Neimi, the author and novelist. Like him, I left my country, Lebanon, in 1972, and often thought about what I left behind. I gradually lost the desire to return, and later, after making a short visit back, I gave up on the idea altogether after being away for 38 years. Neimi and I differ on why it took us a long time to return (for me, 38 years, and for him, 50 years). It has been 53 years now since I departed Lebanon.
Nesrine Akram Khoury on the Trauma of Displacement in ‘A Room Between Two Massacres’
By Naomi Pham
“We were surprised by the other, the room, and me. I took a small space from it, just enough to open my laptop and resume the life I had left behind, hungry and afraid. The room, in turn, took two years of my life.” In this poetic portrait of life caught between war, displacement, and cyclical violence, Nesrine Akram Khoury’s “A Room Between Two Massacres”* dredges up painful memories that may resonate with many despite their intensely personal nature.
Language is not just a means of expression; it shapes identity and offers a broader, more complex connection to culture. In his essay “Arabic Literature in French: A Confusing Classification,”* published in Al Quds Al Arabi, Algerian novelist Waciny Laredj unravels the complex relationship between Arab writers, the French language, and identity. Language, he writes, is not merely a tool of expression — for many, it is a “home” and a determinant of cultural and intellectual vision, especially among writers who adopted French, whether by necessity or strategic choice, whose Arab identities were erased and sidelined in the literary world.
Syria Strips Away Symbols of the Old Regime to Reveal the Layers of Hell Beneath Damascus
By Elie Chalala
Syrian novelist Samar Yazbek recently returned to Syria and has written and given interviews on exile, displacement, fear, alienation, and the devastation of war. Having lived in displacement for nearly a decade, the thought of returning frequently occupied her mind. Her essay, “In Damascus, a Steep Road Leads to Hell,”* published in the New Arab newspaper, covers her experience as a returnee.
Suppose we must encapsulate the essence of Abeer Dagher Esber’s message for Syrians to remember, now and in the future. In that case, it should be the words she leaves at the end of her essay in Al Modon newspaper: “Our detention centers and the shame they represent — something we hope never to endure again — are woven into the fabric of our souls and cities, the stains on our brows that generations strive to erase and forgive. Our detention centers reflect a complex relationship with a collective memory we hesitate to confront, fearing we might be accused of mere rhetoric and shedding sentimental tears in unfamiliar cities.”
Syrian blogger Mayada Tishori illustrates the challenges Arab women face regarding their personal and political rights in a compelling essay, “My Country Was Liberated… and Now It’s My Turn,” written in Arabic for the online Lebanese newspaper Al Modon.
Lebanon stands on the precipice of change with its election of a president independent of the corrupt old elite and the nomination of a reformist prime minister-designate. These tides of change usher in a new wave of enthusiasm and even optimistic euphoria among some, as expressed by many intellectuals, both Lebanese and Arab. The Algerian novelist Amin Zaoui stands out among some of these optimistic intellectuals, recalling Beirut’s ‘golden years’ of the 1950s, 1960s, and part of the 1970s.
Lebanon has recently elected a president, and the immediate response might be, “So what?” On top of this, the parliament also chose its prime minister-designate. The difference between the level of news from Syria last month and Lebanon this month sounds almost incomparable. At least regarding Syria, the fact that Bashar al-Assad is no longer the country's leader while the incumbent has not yet been elected still maintains an element of surprise for the future.
Yara Nahle, a Lebanese writer, begins her blog with the image of the ‘angel of history,’ described by the German philosopher Walter Benjamin (1892-1940) as a figure who “sees only one catastrophe, a pile of rubble before his feet." For Benjamin, history is not a continuous progression toward the future but a pile of ruins accumulated by wars, conflicts, and disasters.
"Ruins" has more meaning for Benjamin than its literal definition, which combines rubb
“Voices That Speak Over the Rubble: Intellectuals Reflect on Lebanon’s War From Above, Below, and Within,” a unique feature to be published in Al Jadid’s forthcoming annual edition (Vol. 28, No. 85, 2014), compiles the compelling, powerful, and heart-wrenching accounts of those directly experiencing the ruination caused by Israel’s war against Lebanon. Among the several stories are two articles by the artist and engineer Mohamed Charaf.
For countries sharing as complicated a relationship as France and Algeria, some might expect the recent awarding of France’s most prestigious literary prize, the Prix Goncourt, to an Algerian writer to be cause for celebration. Algerian-born writer Kamel Daoud emerged the winner of this year’s Goncourt with his third novel “Houris” (“Virgin” in English), securing six out of 10 votes from Académie members during the deliberation process.
Ongoing talks of the nostalgic past and less depressing times bring to mind Beirut’s own miniature ‘Andalusia,’ its famous Al Hamra Street, which — like the majestic Andalusia of eld — has become an unachievable, distant relic of a flourishing time.