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Ahmed Alaidy's first novel, “An Takoun Abbas El Abd,” Being Abbas El Abd, took everyone by storm when it was published in 2003. Its long awaited English translation is now available. It is difficult to categorize this work which stands on its own. Describing it however, unleashes an avalanche of words: Outrageous, wild, outlandish, weird and zany. This crazy novel about a crazy world is also meant to drive the reader crazy. Devoid of a real plot, the eleven chapters are filled with subversive thoughts and humorous as well as angry outbursts which reflect the nature of a chaotic mind. The author also makes gargantuan use of punctuation, and the layout is strikingly unconventional. The first chapter highlights the quasi-paranoiac nature of the narrator. It begins with a bold self-assertion: “I am I and I have my reasons and I have no reasons to be indebted to you or anyone else. My only ambition is to survive on my own, in one piece, and for the whole world, as a ball of wax, to go to hell. “And the last sentences warn the reader about what he is going to experience: “What is madness? It doesn’t matter. Who am I really?... Now you can be afraid For together we shall taste insanity Sip by sip. “ Toward the end of the novel, the author, aware of the disconcerting effect of his disturbing style, asks the reader to quit: “If this were a novel, it would now be time for you to stop and have a sandwich. Unfortunately, however, it isn’t. This is not a novel.” This groundbreaking novel exposes the mental landscape of what Alaidy calls the “autistic generation,” a generation cynical about politics and upset by the growing gap between the rich elite, an impoverished middle class and the poor struggling to survive. The narrator acknowledges bluntly that he will never understand the older generation. Born in Saudi Arabia in 1974, the Egyptian Ahmed Alaidy typifies a generation influenced by market culture, the cell phone, the SMS and the computer. This shows in his writing littered with computer commands like “copy/paste” changing fonts and uncontional paragraphing. One of a growing number of writers choosing colloquial Arabic, Alaidy goes even further. His everyday Arabic is peppered with an array of colorful street expressions used by young people, taxi-drivers, and minibus users. He also revels in mixing classical and colloquial Arabic which according to Humphrey Davies, renowned translator of Arabic, results in “a disorienting sense of a breakdown of borders.” The Arabic language has always consisted of the classical idiom and a colloquial idiom which varies from country to country. Traditionally, classical Arabic was used for writing but this is slowly changing as many authors are using colloquial Arabic in their novels, especially in dialogues. Davies highlights some of the challenges facing translators of Arabic. He rightly points out that the coexistence of two idioms is unique. It does not exist in English or in any other western language for that matter. He also strongly dispels the mistaken notion that colloquial Arabic is akin to slang. The translator can reflect the difference between classical and colloquial Arabic: “by manipulation of the overall register of a passage so as to provide the reader with at least a sense of the diversity of idiom within the Arabic,” explains Davies. This novel may signal the beginning of a long awaited literary renaissance. To compete with satellite television and the internet, Arabic literature needs to produce exciting new books. Despite its avid supporters and strong detractors, Being Abbas El Abd can leave no one indifferent. It also keeps us wondering about what will come next? Will anyone follow in Alaidy’s footsteps? A seed has definitely been sown and we are eagerly waiting for the outcome. |
