After a long stay in London, Layla returned to Beirut in 2009 to sign her novels, “I Live” and “The Gods Deformed,” and her short story collection “Spaceship of Tenderness to the Moon,” which had been republished by Dar al-Adab, at the Beirut Book Fair. Surrounded by her books, Layla seemed as if she was still preserving her old magic and charm. She was Beirut’s “star” novelist during the 60s, especially after “Spaceship of Tenderness” was banned in 1964 on charges of immorality. She was arrested, tried, and won the case.
Beirut’s Raouché Rock Tells Stories of Endurance and Collapse
By Elie Chalala
As a Lebanese and as many others who grew up not far from Beirut and the Raouché district — also known as Pigeons’ Rock — I was captivated by its grandeur. Two massive limestone outcrops rise from the Mediterranean along Beirut’s western coast, separated from the mainland by an ancient earthquake. This natural landmark is not only a symbol of beauty but also a silent witness to Lebanon’s triumphs and tragedies.
There is a sense of irony, or perhaps tragic justice, in that the story of a woman whose life and presence were forcibly erased from the public sphere continues to linger on the minds of many, unforgettable even 50 years after her death. Just as she forged a path through the social and political barriers confronting her, the Egyptian feminist, poet, and editor Doria Shafik’s legacy as one of the leading figures of the Egyptian women’s liberation movement in the 1940s cannot be forgotten. Shafik strived to make her voice and the voices of all Egyptian women known, undeterred by the many who hurled insults, slander, and mockery her way — but in exchange for her efforts, all her work was seized, her allies turned their backs on her, and she lived out her final years in silence and isolation.
Marwan Harb offers a sharp critique of Hezbollah’s estrangement from Lebanese national identity, portraying it as a militarized organization that derives its legitimacy not from democratic participation but from its arsenal. Harb traces the evolution of Hezbollah’s weaponry — once venerated as a sacred tool of liberation — through three distinct phases: initially serving as a sectarian shield during vulnerable times, then an instrument of internal political domination, and ultimately a hollow burden, clinging to relevance without justification. This trajectory illustrates the symbolic decay of the ‘weapon,’ transforming it from a shield of defense to a mechanism of control.
Like others reacting to the state of Syria following the fall of the Assad regime, Nour al-Sayed’s response is heavy with disappointment and dismay, expressed in the title of her essay for Al Modon, “If We Knew the Depth of Our Hatred… We Wouldn’t Have Needed a Revolution.” Sayed, adding a surprising levity, acknowledges the title comes across like something a child might say after not having their way, but just as quickly states that the severity of Syria’s predicament is not a matter that can be treated as “a child’s folly.” Her assessment of the country is sobering: the ‘victory’ against the Assad regime has “failed to mend the wounds, but instead has reopened them and deepened the pain.”
For decades, Ziad Rahbani occupied a unique place in the Syrian imagination — a figure at once satirist, musician, and political voice, whose art offered both entertainment and coded dissent. His relationship with Syrians moved through phases of clandestine admiration, public estrangement, and finally to a bittersweet mixture of betrayal and a lingering, conflicted gratitude that survived even the most profound political disappointments. His artistic journey intertwined with Syria’s own political and cultural shifts, making his transformation all the more personal for those who once claimed him as their own.
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.