The Hakawati – by Rabih Alameddine

I bought “The Hakawati” two months ago after reading a write up on it in The Wall Street Journal. I read it during my lunch hour at work and it has been an enjoyable two months ~ I’m going to miss this book.

A hakawati is a middle eastern story teller and oh, what tales we are told! The foundation of the book is the story of Osama al-Kharrat and his struggle to come to terms with in relationship with his father before his father passes away. We learn about Osama’s siblings, parents and antecedents. Peppered in between Osama’s struggle are stories of old. We are treated to stories of Fatima and her battle with the jinn Afreet-Jehanam and their subsequent and passionate love affair, of Fatima’s son Shams and the son of the emir Layl, of Baybars, of Taboush, of Abraham, and my two favorites Othman and his beautiful, strong, wise and crafty wife Layla.

I’m slowly gaining a little insight into the Korean culture through all those k-dramas I watch. The Korean culture is different and charming and sweet. “The Hakawati” offered me, after “The Red Tent” and “The Kite Runner”, some tiny insight into the Middle Eastern culture; one that is magical and real and lusty. Some of it was a little weird for me, but it didn't ruin in the telling.

I barely even realized that a tapestry that was being woven around me. I got confused trying to remember all of Osama’s family, who fathered whom, which wife was feuding with which other one’s aunt. It was told in sort of a conversational style that pulled me right in, felt real and kept me invested. But by the end, after all the magical tales were told, I realized that through the stories I grew to love, alongside the characters for whom I supported and ached, the thread of the hakawati continued through the ages. The thread uniting grandfathers and fathers and sons and nephews and cousins and sisters and mothers and aunts and grandmothers. The thread bringing life to their stories and richness to ours. Osama realizes it too, he understands in the end that he really does know his father and he will enjoy telling the story of his father for many years to come.

I liked it, a little weird, but yeah, I liked it. I think I will read it again; high marks. It is recommended.

Hateful Again

Hateful again today, with no apparent hormonal or chemical origin, so I’m thinking that it must be some hidden satanic imp poking at a fold in my brain tissue causing me to hate. Let me revise slightly; it’s not really hate, I can’t hate. But I REEEEEEEEALLLLLLLY don’t like anyone or anything today, and ‘hate’ is easier to type than ‘REEEEEEEEALLLLLLLY don’t like’.

Earlier this week I had a pervasive sense of ennui. I had just gotten back from a trip to upstate NY to see my son graduate from Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute; a New Ivy, thank you very much. It was a wonderful but busy weekend and I was exhausted.

I told a friend this week that I decided Ennui will be an entity for me ~ and that she's a woman. She starts off all nice, stroking my hair, telling me to take care of myself, urging me to take it easy, to relax. She pours me a glass of wine. Then when I listen to her, she makes me eat a bacon fat sandwich dressed with a stick of butter for dinner washing it all down with a quart of vegetable oil. She's a bitch, is Ennui. My friend encouraged me to go to the gym, which I did and I hated, was glad when it was over, but was glad I did it.

Being a woman, I don’t think Ennui appreciated being ignored. She called to the previously mentioned minions and instructed them to start poking my brain releasing toxins. Foul inevitably set in. So I reached out to a few people who said that they were feeling ugly today as well. I read my horoscope:

"You might feel like your emotions are being marginalized today by someone who is usually very supportive. Others could be standing in your way now, yet it would be counter-productive to unleash your pent-up frustrations at them. Even if you successfully restrain your anger, you may just end up hotter under the collar. Try to keep your energy moving all day by staying busy with your work"

…and noted that my biorhythms were all crashing down together. Not that I really pay those things any mind, but I found it interesting that my petulance corresponded with the downswing in my biorhythms and that even the stars were against me. Doomed I tell you, doomed.

Guest Blogger made me laugh. We reminisced briefly about a strange and interesting vacation spent in Colorado several years ago, including the Flatulence Tale, and a recollection of some surly women draped in what I can only call an urban sprawl across the overburdened and thoroughly inadequate furniture. She recommended I call my good friend Kenny who’s always good for what ails me. She then invited me to her house Sunday night for her son's post natal festivities. The ill-chosen sentence sounded like "Afterbirth Day Party".

During lunch, I continued reading “The Hakawati” by Rabih Alameddine; an enchanting book that continued to help take me out of myself, further thwarting Ennui and her imps. I will go to the gym tonight. I will walk on the treadmill, I will step on the stepper. Stepper always makes me sweat; I need exertion. I might start a new Korean drama. Either Que Sera Sera or Yi San. I haven’t decided. Spoilers tell me Yi San may not end so well. I could just pull out My Name is Kim Sam Soon or Dae Jang Geum; but I think I need some kdrama.

You know, life’s not so bad. With any luck, I’ll be back in fine fettle by Saturday.