On a Brief Introduction to Modern Arabic Literature

This is a strong introduction to modern Arabic prose, though it may be too brief. Poetry and drama appear, but usually only for a few paragraphs in a given chapter; the bulk of the book is on novels written in Arabic, with some attention to short stories.

The chapters are sensibly arranged: Arabic-language publishing and the state of the field, including the state of translation; the emergence of “modernity” in the Arab world and the arrival of modern literature, especially after the Nahda; the development of the Arabic novel; Palestinian literature; disillusionment; and contemporary writing.

Egypt is by far the most referenced country — Tresilian keeps returning to the line “Cairo writes, Beirut publishes, and Baghdad reads.” Palestine is second, which I was glad to see. The chapter on Palestinian literature was especially illuminating; the country has punched far above its weight in literary output, much more than, say, Jordan or the Arabian Peninsula.

The discussion of Arabic literature in translation is the part that stayed with me. In any bookshop it’s obvious how much Arabic literature gets published and how little of it reaches English, let alone other European languages — a shame, because it’s very good. Tresilian names a few reasons: few works are approachable for readers unfamiliar with Arab culture, and the Anglophone reading public simply has different tastes. Arabic literature still leans toward hard realism — Eliot’s Middlemarch is perhaps the closest analogue — but even that misses it, because today’s authors are far more than an “Arab Dickens” or “Arab Flaubert.” Anglophone readers tend to want pulp: romance, speculative fiction (fantasy especially is having its moment), the “Instagrammable.” Arabic literature usually sits a long way from that.

And when Arab writers write in Arabic, they write for their own audience. Anglophone publics will read the work in translation, but it so often has to fit orientalist expectations to get there. That’s why Arabic women’s writing in particular draws attention: it can be made to fit the story of the oppressive Arab man against the liberated Arab woman. Patriarchy is real and can be acutely oppressive, but it isn’t the whole story, and these framings flatten both men and women into something that doesn’t match reality.

It’s a real shame, a kind of poverty, that Arabic literature isn’t read more widely in the West. It is powerful and, more often than not, speaks to universal concerns; it is also frequently — though not always — politically engaged. It just happens that its political engagement isn’t the kind Western readers expect. Tresilian distills all of this in a very short book, and it’s well worth the time of anyone curious.