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.
Abeer Dagher Esber on the ‘Sectarianization of Blood’ in Syria’s Long Continuum of Collapse
By Naomi Pham
The recent attacks on the Church of Mar Elias in Al-Dweilaa on June 22, 2025 during Divine Liturgy left at least 25 dead and 63 injured. Perhaps Syrians have become accustomed to hearing such tragedy in the news, for every month a new story of blood, violence, and climbing death tolls appears, the massacres on the Syrian coast still a fresh wound on top of the losses suffered in Al-Dweilaa. Abeer Dagher Esber’s impassioned response to the attacks in her essay, “A Prophet of Fire… Consumed by Our Zero-Sum Conflicts,”* is an unflinching criticism of Syria’s problems. The attack on the Church of Mar Elias is a "wound to the spiritual memory of Syria and to the symbolism of the saint whose name the church bears," she writes, adding, "It is a bloody irony that the place named after the ‘one who raised the dead’ should be blown up by someone who worships death, sees the Other as heresy, and life as merely a path toward a delusional glory."
I grew up in Hazmièh, a small town east of Beirut, Lebanon's capital, during the early 1960s. Our rented apartment was situated near a modest multi-unit residential building, known as the Wadih El Safi building, named after the celebrated Lebanese singer who owned it. At the time, Wadih El Safi (1921-2013) was renowned for his wealth and fame, a reputation that endured after I immigrated to and settled in the United States. Wadih El Safi's later life is notable for his declaration of bankruptcy just a year before his death. He attributes his financial troubles to a monopoly contract he signed with Rotana, a Saudi Arabian record label and the music division of the Rotana Media Group.
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.
Narratives are powerful forces. When Syrians wake up after each conflict to proclaim or revive a narrative, they are, as Fadwa Abboud argues in her article "The War of Syrian Narratives" (published in Al Modon newspaper), "continuing their wars by other means." Abboud contends that Syrians are both victims and architects of the stories they tell about themselves. These narratives often evolve into tales of victimhood, shaping political and cultural growth through socialization.
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.