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This is an archive article published on August 30, 2006

Cairo walks

Mahfouz was Egypt8217;s interpreter of change

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The advice for us armchair travellers wanting to know Egypt has been unerringly consistent. Read Naguib Mahfouz, Cairenes said. Read him, and then think about venturing into Cairo8217;s historic centre to understand the country. It makes one wonder, upon hearing of the passing away of Mahfouz, the first and only Arab to get the Nobel Prize for Literature, whether the paces of that inquiry will now reverse. How many of his readers, enriched by the stories told in more than 40 books, will now roam the alleys of Cairo, trying to know the great writer?

Long before foreign policy wonks began to invoke the Arab Street in obfuscatory pretensions to grass-roots knowledge, Mahfouz had taught Egyptian novelists how to find the interface between fiction and experience: the Cairene alley. Even as he went from the literary realism of his Cairo trilogy to the allegory, the locale was urban, the narrative played out on specific streets and quarters.

J.M. Coetzee says that with these stories 8212; set in 8220;medieval Cairo, an area of about one square kilometre8221; 8212; it was Mahfouz8217;s 8220;example above all that spurred the advance of the novel in Arabic, from Morocco to Bahrain8221;. The tribute rings loud once again, as Egypt8217;s latest literary star, Alaa Al Aswany, gathers accolades for his new novel, The Yacoubian Building. The project of mapping Cairo, and thereby the Egyptian mind, continues.

But how imperceptibly that world came to the reader in the Cairo trilogy Palace Walk, Palace of Desire, Sugar Street, in which two generations of a family open to modernity and its challenges, between the two World Wars. Amina, the patriarch8217;s wife, wakes up at midnight. 8220;She always woke up then without having to rely on an alarm clock 8230; there was no clue by which to judge the time. The street noise outside her room would continue until dawn. She could hear the babble of voices from the coffeehouses and bars, whether it was early evening, midnight, or just before daybreak.8221;

Mahfouz himself was born in medieval Cairo in 1911, and he made it his life8217;s accomplishment to find coherence and drama in those voices. It often enraged fundamentalists. And in October 1994, on his way to his favourite coffeehouse, one of them stabbed him in the neck. He became partially deaf but he refused to abandon the Cairo street. Or the coffeehouse.

 

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