Having Self-Exiled from the Turbulent World of Lebanese Politics, Sadek Dies Peacefully at 92
By
Elie Chalala
Rarely do I get personal in my notebooks and essays, but this time I will. On July 1, 2023, I lost a friend in Lebanon whom I had known for more than four decades, and even longer if I count the years before I met him in person in Los Angeles. Habib Sadek (1931-2023) was a Lebanese intellectual, poet, author, head of the Cultural Council of Southern Lebanon, former parliamentarian, and, more importantly, someone whose support deeply impacted the early years of Al Jadid Magazine, for which I will always be grateful.
Scholarship on the Mahjar writers saturates much of the existing literature and discussion of Arab American literature, often alongside the contemporary writers of the third wave. By comparison, second-wave literature shares hardly a fraction of the attention between these two periods. From 1948 to 1973, second-wave writers occupied a surprisingly quiet and subdued presence despite the tumultuous developments occurring around them and in the Arab world.
Art has played an influential role in making sense of the loss felt after the August 4 explosion. Tom Young’s “Strong Angels” and other paintings show a human dimension of the tragedy and its civilian heroes, who “join forces to lift the city’s grief,” writes Darine Houmani of Diffah Three (The New Arab). “Despite all its devastation, the August 4 explosion brought greater impetus to preserve our heritage and brought about a database of our historical buildings that hadn’t been done before,” states Mona Hallak, an architect, heritage activist, and director of the American University of Beirut’s Neighborhood Initiative, as cited in The New Arab. Several weighed in on the rebuilding efforts, including Lebanese architect Jad Tabet, who proposed “rehabilitation” rather than “reconstruction,” focusing on preserving the city’s existing social fabric and inhabitants alongside the architecture (for further reading on Jad Tabet and architectural heritage, see Al Jadid, Vol. 4, No, 25, Fall 1998; Vol. 5, No. 26, Winter 1999; and Vol. 24, No. 79, 2020). As art historian and gallery owner Andrée Sfeir-Semler says, “You need to nourish people with art and culture because that is what feeds their souls.”
Fifty Years of Debate Yield No Consensus Over Her Place on the Throne of New Arabic Poetry
By
Elie Chalala
Rarely do I open a cultural page in Arab newspapers, whether print or online, without catching wind of new discourse on modern poetry. Though I have never written poetry, the topic naturally draws my interest as an academic in political science, lecturing on debates between tradition and modernity for nearly a third of a century...Debates between traditional and new poetry shouldn’t be dismissed as simply Byzantine arguments. Such discourse indicates significant changes in the Arab world, including modernization and later globalization. Several critics have raised this discussion, the latest of which was in a column by Aref al-Saadi in Asharq Al Awsat, who writes, “I say this based on a slow study of our contemporary poetry and its trends, and I say it because it is the logical result of our willingness to read European literature and study the latest theories in philosophy, art, and psychology. In reality, those who want to combine modern culture with ancient traditions of poetry are like those living today in the clothes of the first century of immigration.” According to Saadi, there are two alternatives to discussing modernity and tradition: “Either we learn the theories, are influenced by them, and apply them, or we do not learn them at all. It may be useful for us to remember that the development in the arts and literature in a given era arises from the meeting of two or more nations.” Closed nations don’t produce anything new but merely repeat what their ancestors did.
Rarely do I open a cultural page in Arab newspapers, whether print or online, without catching wind of new discourse on modern poetry. Though I have never written poetry, the topic naturally draws my interest as an academic in political science, lecturing on debates between tradition and modernity for nearly a third of a century...Debates between traditional and new poetry shouldn’t be dismissed as simply Byzantine arguments.
The pioneering Mahjar writing of first-wave Arab American literature has fascinated those in the diaspora community and their homelands for over a century. Modernist characteristics of this literature contributed to its fascination, as it developed earlier than modernism in Arabic literature.
The Mahjar modernist movement emerged in the early 20th century, rooted in romanticism and spiritual philosophy. Arab American poetry diverged from Arab poetry dramatically in form and theme, characterized by simple language, freedom from tradition in rhyme and meter, and the abandonment of stereotypes. This modernist literature was, in some ways, an antecedent to its Arab counterparts. Fascinatingly, while Arab literature did not embrace modernism until the late interwar period, members of the Arab American intellectual community readily adopted the literary movement.
Arab American literature and how we define it remains central to the field’s discourse. Some scholars believe prior knowledge of Arab culture is essential to comprehending Arab American literature since it is an ethnic genre. Since the 20th century until the present, Arab Americans have strongly lobbied to classify Arab American studies as an ethnic field and draw a line between Middle East studies — which belongs to the area studies — and ethnic studies.
As a young man, Syrian author and novelist Haidar Haidar had been silently involved in political events in his country. Like many Arab and Syrian intellectuals, he participated in the Algerian Arabization process, volunteering to teach the Arabic language in Algeria. His works have been translated into German, English, French, and Italian and remain read in the Arab world, achieving various success. His novel, “The Leopard,” was adapted into a movie directed by the late prominent director Nabil Al-Maleh, winning many awards in international festivals. He often explored his connection to nature in his writing, touching on the relationship between hunter and prey and his own reflections as a novelist and hunter.
“Do you remember how often you have dissuaded me from hunting?”
“I do. Hopefully, you have finally listened to me.”
Abu Marwan has a reputation as a swift hunter. He is past 40, with a cheerful face, sleepy eyes, and a pleasing smile. A witty and lively man, he is famed for being honest, generous, soft-spoken, and kind-hearted. People tell amusing tales about his compassion for animals: when his cat broke her leg, he nearly disowned his family because they suggested throwing her in the river. Instead, he devoted much time to her needs until her foot healed. When one of his hens became blind, he built a special coop, fed her with his hands, brought her the fresh grass she liked, and cleaned her nest. He would not eat her meat and buried her with reverence and dignity when she died. Rumor suggests he cried over her grave.