Writing Reflections 8 – Nigerian Cinema and the Writing Form

I often think it’s the inter-parallel equations that silently work to measure and thread varied passions within an individual’s singular destiny. A love for the cultural arts has long helped me banish what might have otherwise proved a stereotyped personality and instead allowed me to embrace one, laden with fascinating complexities.

These days, I am able to easily distinguish the glimpse of new discoveries in my renewed life as a writer.  With a real celebration of this aptitude, I   absorbed an unexpected fruitful lesson just the other day, from world cinema.

On free nights, I do from time to time relish cultural films or documentaries.

Generally, I purchase films that appeal in a certain tantalising manner. I don’t tend like many do, to borrow or rent them. I have a serious burgeoning collection hidden away in my cupboard.

The majority of endearing ones stay the slightly alternative European, Asian, Persian and Middle-Eastern stories, that hinge their  persuasive charms on  generational  family life especially those which highlight the artistry of cuisine, culinary journeys or the romantic moods of tender, rural landscapes, wound into elaborate village tales.   I am bowled over for instance, by gatherings set around a crowded dinner table, breakfasts in the gardens, wine toasts that tiptoe with gentle docility upon the remnants of  an earlier argument in the dining room, picnics that hover close to a wild windy sea…in other words, a creative sumptious menu that may just as well, tempt the mind’s palate with the aesthetic pleasures of taste and this, complete with unforgivable generosity.

I am also a diligent viewer of classic British sleuths, a jolly hobby I’ve pursued from girlhood.  Naturally, my choice of Midsomer Murders and Hetty Wainthropp Investigates episodes are likely to follow suit.  Still, nothing is complete without my carefully packed away boxed set featuring a memorable American tv comedy, Everybody Loves Raymond. I never tire of losing myself with unescapable joy in the re-runs.

When I travel,  I slip my favourite dvds into my luggage.  This  allows me to dissolve my restlessness into the allure of a remembered film, providing of course, that the sandman cooperates and discreetly fails to arrive in a foreign hotel room.  Perhaps too,  if I’ve had a good day lapping up the outdoors or when nostalgia impatiently beckons, I’d happily reward myself with a film. Often, I observe in a silent way, the technical aptitude of how scripts are written…the kaleidoscope of images that make for sharp sorrow or comedy  bending to its wry humour and especially the motley characterisation in film that offer countless ready ideas for the novel.

To me personally, literature and the cinematic arts connect more closely in my life than I dare imagine.

Of late, I have found myself cheerfully devouring Naija films, complete with its enchanting pidgin English lingo. I love African cinema as it often serves the perfect reminder of my Tanzanian friends. An overwhelming nostalgia slyly enthralls before I soon find myself yet again on a flight, halfway around the world.

In modern Nigerian cinema, where so many impressive stories are based on expansive plots locked away in rural villages or  rambling bungalows in Lagos; I have soaked  with delight the eccentric characterisation of say, the over-zealous church goer, the witch doctor, the wicked mother-in-law, the greedy landlord or a jealous sibling. Then there is the roomful of fashionable, flamboyant wives…the hangout of jobless husbands…the rushing footsteps of the noisy inquisitive neighbour….the stingy angry farmer…all sorts.  At first, I found myself engaged in these robust films,  simply for pleasure and as a hallmark for one of my more ideal forms of a vibrant escapism.

Then on a more serious note, I must say that despite the extravagance of intricate plots and numerous characters, I began to recognise the evolvement of the screenplay itself to be very tight.  This,  especially when wound around  the more colourful modern folktales produced  by the local Yoruba people whose communities reside mostly in Western Nigeria. The Yoruba language is one of the Niger-Congo family of languages.

No doubt, the respective film-makers seem to own a high talent for lavish ancient traditions, rituals and profound religious philosophies  in particular…a trait that often inspires and astonishes me. I notice that while a major plot and its accompanying series of sub-plots are all  bound by complicated twists and turns, they finally come together like rivulet ribbons to a welcoming brook and rather seamlessly too, in that tie-up to  a superb finish.

It wasn’t too long before I was happily seduced, caught in rapt attention by these stories and desired to create characters like these for my own tales. Oh…what excitement when I discovered this wanting! I couldn’t understand my bliss following such an encounter but knew the desire to be forthcoming and getting stronger as I studied varied films with real earnestness in a way that I purported to be educational and consistent.

Then to my surprise, I recognised the reason why I myself, was now drawn to create a party of lively boistrous characters, all boastful of skeletons in the cupboard. But do I dare… What exhilaration! What a challenge!

Ironically, this goes against my reclusive self in real time of late. In recent weeks, I have presently, pulled away from the online crowd. I can’t remember when I last left a comment or engaged in superficial banter.  In fact, I shudder at the  lost time.  I have certainly grown far  more reserved about my daily activities.  I am more guarded definitely. Lost in the new luxury of an intoxicating writing world,  I have for  the present moment, left  the  past to fend for itself come what may.  I myself with bowed head prefer to get on with my journey with nary a thought that my voice should add any more clamour to feisty opinions already alive and kicking.  Thus,  I have  returned full circle to once more resembling the shy violet lass, readily apparent when I had turned 20 and some.

For years, some of my best writing steeped from a taut individualistic self which commands a style of its own but could just be rigid in the way of experimentation. I  often observed enthralling pastoral happenings as a fly on the wall, lending its invisible ear to many things while gleaning secrets within my shy, quiet self…  As the owner of varied musings, I subconsciously became concerned never to intrude upon the broken heart of a lover or disturb the melancholic orchestra being strung by the merry herring gulls. I do possess a skill for this guardian angel watchfulness, I admit.

I remembered also that when  in my 20s, I wrote children’s plays for Radio Malaysia and much of these drama, were often extravagant in personality with a host of different voices scattered clumsily  in excitable speech.  A handful of  characters would chatter or yell with  enthusiastic flutter above each other’s heads, all at once.  I recalled that one  of my  early children’s plays lay  in how a devout, secret team of  spiders and lizards worked together throughout the dark night, so as to rescue a tearful picture on a wall from being sold to a dank shop in another town. What a ticklish kerfuffle I had created on the page!  Strange when you think of how I had pictured myself, a bashful introvert in earlier years but  at the same time, an easy extrovert with the representation of my children’s stories.

In later years, the opposite happened. I became nothing short of an extrovert while my career would steadfastly sprout wings with magazine journalism.  To my great surprise, I flourished in assignments that included having to conduct candid interviews with several showbiz personalities.  Again very much unlike my old self, when I travelled – and this followed up from the magazine journalism career – I found myself all the bolder. I was more inclined to chat with strangers in an assortment of settings when called upon to introduce myself and you know, just the public glare of airports says it all.

Around this time, I turned the introvert with my artistic craft. Beautiful words all readily composed if I may dare to describe them myself and slightly distinct too, but my manuscripts represented a form of writing that stayed  attuned to a quieter rhythm.   As a broad example, there lingered, only just the one voice observing, whispering, sketching and reciting thoughts in a poetic demeanour and that one voice was me.

This is what Nigerian cinema unearthed about my personal history  which confirms my theory that every race and heritage has the ability to soar across a boundary, that all of the universal cultural arts are interlinked in some way. And in that, that a culture so foreign as Nigeria, could teach me this surreal quality about myself. Wonderful isn’t it. This is what makes me currently so excited about travel, even if it may be nothing more this time round, than just to familiar locations, so as to research and write my novel.  Still,  the flavours and charms of the orient all beckon, to thoughtfully introduce me to new worlds inter-connected and bathed in light. – susan abraham

An Interview with Malaysian Novelist Chan Ling Yap on her Writing Days & Forthcoming Book, Bitter-Sweet Harvest

by Susan Abraham

Introduction:

The UK-based Malaysian novelist, Chan Ling Yap will celebrate the release of  her second novel Bitter- Sweet Harvest, to be published by Marshall Cavendish and out in the bookstores  in Asia this autumn. Marking a sequel to an earlier fascinating novel on old Malaya available worldwide and titled, Sweet Offerings,  Bitter-Sweet Harvest by contrast,  offers a unique multicultural flavour as it salutes a promising Malaysian tale that  describes captivating contradictions of culture and religion plotted through an enduring love story. It is expected to be launched in the UK and Europe in early 2012. Sweet Offerings was first published by Indepenpress UK in 2009 and later, Marshall Cavendish in 2011. Both the books stay complete stories in themselves and can be read in any order.

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Something about Chan Ling Yap:

Chan Ling Yap was born and raised in Kuala Lumpur. She later obtained a Phd. in Economics while receiving further education in England. After a stint of having held a lecturing position at the University of Malaya, Chan Ling Yap joined the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization in Rome.  She worked for 19 years as a senior commodity expert responsible for rice.  She was Head of the Rice Commodity Group in the Organization and eventually returned to the United Kingdom with her family in 1997.  To find out more about the accomplished writer, you may visit her website and do scroll below for an interview.

A newspaper interview with Chan Ling Yap may be found in The Star, Malaysia while a short magazine one may be found in   Her World Malaysia Recently, Malaysian booksellers Popular nominated Sweet Offerings for the Readers’ Choice Awards.

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Upcoming Author Event: Chan Ling Yap to Speak at at the Thame Arts and Literature Festival, UK on 14th October 2011.

Thanks to the overwhelming popularity of the novelist’s first expansive novel Sweet Offerings from where she recited with exquisite, meticulous flair,  the  tale of an impoverished young maiden who leaves her rural village to work for an overbearing tyrannical matriach in Kuala Lumpur, Chan Ling will be a guest speaker at the Thame Arts and Literature Festival (TAL) at 11.00 am on 14th October,  in the upper gallery of the Thame Library, North Street, Thame in Oxfordshire, OX9 3BH, UK, as part of the First Novelist Panel for the TALExtra Festival Fringe.  Chan Ling will share her morning with another debut novelist, Angie Voluti and in this free event organised by the Oxfordshire library for the TAL, the novelist will talk about her newest atmospheric fare, Bitter-Sweet Harvest.

Chan Ling was also invited recently together with novelist Priya Basil to speak to budding novelists at a VAANI (for Asian Women Writers & Artists) event on a theme called, Love, Pain and Cheats. Both pulled the enjoyable event off like a dream.

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In This Rare Detailed Interview, I Speak to Chan Ling Yap About Her Writing Life

What are your feelings in general about speaking at the Thame Festival?

“I am absolutely delighted to have the opportunity to do so. I was told that Sweet Offerings is a ‘constantly borrowed’ book, so I expect that, in addition to those that have not read the book, I will be able to meet many who have read it. Having direct feedback from readers, is very important to me. I am an avid reader myself and I know that when I am involved with the characters in the story, my enjoyment of it is more intense. So I look forward, with some trepidation, to see if I have achieved this.”

What will you bring to the table about both your books, at the Festival?

“People who have read both books – Bitter-Sweet Harvest in manuscript – say that they have learnt a lot about Malaysia, a country that they had previously known as a spot on a map, or a country that produces rubber and tin. So I would say both books bring a deeper understanding of Malaysia, its’ history, the diversity of its people and their culture, subjects which are so topical in today’s world. I quote from some readers’ reviews on Amazon.”

How do you think book festivals help novelists?

“Book festivals are very important for readers and authors. They are two sides of the equation. Without readers there would be very little incentive to write and publish. Without authors, there would be little to read. Novelists learn from readers; the latter, if constructive (a very important caveat), can be their best critic. I have on occasions found myself liking a book recommended to me by ordinary readers much more than one that has won a literary prize. For me, I read for enjoyment; I don’t necessarily just enjoy a book that is promoted by literary pundits.”

Do you suffer from stage fright?

“My previous post as Secretary of the Intergovernmental Group on Rice in the UN Food and Agriculture Organization required me to speak in public forums.   That said I still have ‘butterflies’ whenever I speak. Speaking as a novelist is not the same as speaking to delegates at an intergovernmental meeting. Speaking as a novelist is more intimate, more personal. That in itself can be daunting. However, the people you meet are often so warm and encouraging that they carry you and bring out the best in you.”

Please tell us the setting for Bitter-Sweet Harvest.

“Sweet Offerings was principally set in Malaysia. By contrast, the setting for Bitter-Sweet Harvest is quite different. As mentioned in the cover of the book, the story takes the reader on a journey through contrasting cultures: from the learned spires of Oxford in England to the east cost of Peninsular Malaysia; from vibrant Singapore to Catholic Rome and developing Indonesia.”

Tell us about the captivating cover design.

“The cover design for Bitter-Sweet Harvest was inspired by the wish to maintain a central theme that connects this, my second novel, with my first. Hence, we chose the use of an early 19th Century Nyonya porcelain jar to connect with the Nyonya teacup in the first book. This is of significance because it represents the early Chinese immigrants to Malaya that have adopted the way of life, dress and even speech of the Malays living there. The Chinese families involved in the story were descendents of such families. By contrast, the backgrounds in the covers of both books are completely different. In Bitter-Sweet Harvest, you see the Nyonya jar set against a scene where mosques are juxtaposed against the spires of learning in Oxford, and Cathedrals. In Sweet Offerings, you have the simplicity of early life and dwellings as the setting.

“While the idea originated from me, it was Marshall Cavendish, my Publisher, that put it together so beautifully into a work of art. My thanks and compliments to the designer.”

What would the world take from Bitter-Sweet Harvest?

“Both novels are works of fiction and are meant to entertain. So I hope that at the end of the book, I would like readers to say, ‘What a fascinating book!  I really enjoyed it and I would like to read another book from the same author! I think I would like to visit the country to see for myself!  It reads so real and stirs up such memories!’  The book is not meant to preach. Readers will take from the book what they seek and each reader will have a different perspective. In writing both novels, I have never painted a black and white situation. I have tried to give the perspective of the characters themselves, with their weaknesses and strength.”

If readers could warm to your characters, which are the one or two you hope they choose?

“In Sweet Offerings, I would have no difficulty in selecting a character that I warm to the most. It would be Nelly, the second wife. In Bitter-Sweet Harvest, the central characters have their equal share of weakness, strength and ‘lovability’, so it would be difficult to choose between them in an unbiased manner. If I had to choose, it would be An Mei because of what she had to go through, from a young girl, fired with the idealism of love, to a disillusioned and much damaged young woman. My sympathies are with her.”

Do elaborate on your personal thoughts about writing Malaysian literature for the world.

“I think it is always exciting to be writing about Malaysia because the country has all the ingredients of the modern world: multiculturalism. One important point to note, however, is that multiculturalism is not new in Malaysia so it might not always be appropriate to draw direct parallels with other countries recently receiving large inflow of migrants. It has been there for centuries and, of course, we are not talking about pockets of minority groups of different origins in the country. The Chinese represented 45 percent of the population in the 50s though the current proportion is much reduced (one source says to 25 percent).

“It is very exciting to write about people who speak two or more different languages to each other, switching from one to the other with ease; and, of course, there is that all inspiring Malaysian cuisine. Malaysia provides a very colourful background to my writing.”

I read about your creative writing discipline in The Star newspaper.  Did you follow the same routine for penning Bitter Sweet Harvest? Waking up at 6.00 and writing for straight five hours or so?  If not, could you tell us the new routine you adopted for writing Bitter Sweet Harvest?

“I could not follow the same strict writing routine that I had when penning Sweet Offerings due to family circumstances. My husband was very ill. There were long periods when I was writing Bitter-Sweet Harvest that I did not write at all. But the story must have continued to develop and churn in my mind for when I did return to it, the story just flowed. It was a period of my life where I became very sensitive and aware and that, I think, was transferred into my writing.”

Most writers struggle with a fervent writing discipline but you appear to carry this off very well? How do you manage the motivation & focus?

“I have always been disciplined and focused. To say this may seem boastful but I do not mean it that way. It is just that I have always got on with the job in hand rather than putting things off to another day.”

What motivated and encouraged you to write Bitter-Sweet Harvest?

“I was motivated to write Bitter-Sweet Harvest by the readers of Sweet Offerings.  I had the great opportunity to meet with many readers because I was invited to their readers’ group meetings. I attended more than a dozen of these and most, if not all, asked if I would write a sequel. Sweet Offerings ending was open to a sequel. As one reader wrote on my website:  ‘I cannot recall ever reading a book where the very last word carried so much meaning for the future.’

“Another wrote, ‘A book that is impossible to put down and cannot wait for the sequel.’ “

Which is your favourite season to write in and why?

“Winter is still my favourite writing season. I have fewer distractions. We have a very big garden and in summer, there is always something to do.”

Do you write in a room with a view?

“No I do not have a view in my writing room. That would be a distraction. When I need a break, I make a mug of tea and take it to the garden. I like to feed the fish in our pond. We have two fishponds. The big pond with a waterfall is in what we call the wild garden. I would sit with my tea, sometimes with my husband, in the wild garden, by the pond to listen to the gurgling of the waterfall and the rush of water in the little brook that separates us from our neighbour. I find it very therapeutic.”

Where do you write? Tell us about your writing place.

“A quiet room. I write in an office, packed with books and filing cabinets, which I share with my husband. Sometimes, he wants to chat when I am writing and sometimes I talk, when he is writing. So it becomes less ideal for both of us. But other than that, I love him to be in the same room. He is very supportive.”

Do you have any eccentricities that guard your writing desk? What do you write on?

“I don’t have any unusual writing habits that I am aware of. I try to keep everything very neat and tidy. I have a stack of paper on my right where I jot down ideas that I would like to return to. On my left is my tray for matters that I need to attend to. At the other corner of the room where my husband works, the scene is quite different. He has pieces of paper everywhere and they have to be kept in an untidy array because then only can he find them. He does not like me to tidy them. So I write in the midst of chaos and order. I keyboard and I use a Mac.”

You mentioned in a newspaper interview that you were still finding yourself as you penned Sweet Offerings.  As a result, did any new discoveries lie before you with Bitter-Sweet Harvest?

“When writing Bitter-Sweet Harvest, I rediscovered how much I love writing and the research that goes with it. I always try to make the historical background as real as possible. Most people believe that Sweet Offerings was biographical and I am very flattered by it. For the genre of books that I am writing, I believe that you have to make it real for the readers to carry them with you.”

Please describe a good writing day.

“This is on a good writing day. I wake up very early, around 6 am. I lie in bed for 5 minutes or so and go through what I have to do for the day. I get up and do a series of stretching exercises for about 12 – 15 minutes to keep supple. Then I breakfast. I cannot function without eating. Breakfast is just cereals with berries of some sort (blueberries and raspberries are my favourite) and soya milk, and two mugs of tea. I then tidy-up the house, take something out from the freezer for the evening meal and then I shower. I write until lunch. I rest for about half an hour after lunch, potter in the garden and then sit to write for a couple of hours. When I am really into it, my greatest fear is for someone to pop into the office and ask, “What’s for dinner?

“I try not to write in the evening, as I might not sleep because my mind would be active.  The routine is slightly different on days when I run exercise classes.  I still teach Fusion Fitness, an exercise discipline I devised.  These are mainly in the mornings so on those days, my writing is confined to the afternoon.”

When you sit down to write, how do you manage drafts and revisions?

“I write straight through so that I can maintain my story line. In the first draft, it is the story that counts, although I do try to write well. Then I revise and rework over and over again.”

Did nostalgia beckon when you wrote Bitter-Sweet Harvest? Did any memory cajole you to a forgotten remembrance?

“Both books are not autobiographies so I am not recounting my childhood. But I do draw upon my knowledge of all the places described in the novel, and of course, I also draw upon my memories of, say, eating out in Malaysia, sitting in the stalls, hearing conversations around me etc.”

As with your work in Rome, do you bring a high form of strategy to novel-writing?

“When I ran the UN FAO’s Intergovernmental Group on Rice I wrote all the papers for the annual intergovernmental meeting and these had to be translated into four different official languages and dispatched at precise dates. So we had a strict schedule of dates that we had to meet. If I failed to meet them, it would mean that others would also be unable to meet their deadlines andcommitments. This must have contributed to making me disciplined.”

How essential is characterisation to you?

“The characters in the novel take on a life of their own. When I am writing I am totally involved. I am each character. I do not, however, let them take over my life away from my desk.”

What were your sentiments when you touched on the last line of Bitter-Sweet Harvest?

“Once a manuscript is out of my hands and on its way to printers, I always feel a sense of anti-climax. I have worked so hard on it and suddenly it is not there anymore. I try not to look at it again though because I fear I might wish to write and re-write again. It is never as perfect as it can be.

“In a way, you don’t say goodbye because once published, you revisit the story over and over again. You speak about it in interviews and when meeting people who have read the book. It is a lovely and very satisfying feeling when you see your work in print and in bookstores.”

How did you manage your research for both Sweet Offerings and Bitter-Sweet Harvest?

“For Sweet offerings I did a lot of research in the Bodleian Library, Oxford. For Bitter-Sweet Harvest, my research ranged from interviews to reference books. I also did a lot of research. I also did a lot of research for both books on-line.”

Do you belong to a writer’s group?

“I am not part of a writer’s group. I have friends who are writers, but they are not necessarily located in London.”

How do you think you fit into the Malaysian writing scene?

“I don’t think I fit into the Malaysian writing scene: I do not live in Malaysia. I feel, however, that those with a Malaysian heritage are best equipped to write about Malaysia because they see the country with the eyes of a local person. The most famous writers about Malaysia, at least for the world at large, are Somerset Maugham and Anthony Burgess, but they see it from an expatriate point of view and do not really get under the skin of the local people. I am glad to see many up-and-coming writers with Malaysian and Singaporean heritage.”

How do family and friends take you to being a novelist?

“I think my family and friends are not particularly surprised. They seem to take everything that I say I’m going to do as something that is given, whether it be writing a book on exercise or a novel.”

Tell us something about your library.

“I have lots and lots of books. I don’t have a library in the sense of a single room filled with books, although I have a tiny additional study area on a mezzanine floor. But almost every room holds books.”

What are some of your favourite novelists and books?

“My favourite authors include: Barbara Kingsolver, especially her novel, The Poisonwood Bible. I like Hilary Mantel – I found A Change of Climate fascinating. I enjoyed The Outcast by Sadie Jones. It was very tersely written. I love The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini. They were books that gave such insight into Afghanistan. I also love Anthony Trollope and was inspired by his penetrating views on the political, social and gender issues of his day.

What remain your present affliations with Malaysia?

“When I am in Malaysia, I visit relatives and friends. My mother died last year. Until then, I spent almost every day with her whenever I visited Malaysia. Recently I met up with old classmates from St Marys and we went as a group to Malacca. Eating and shopping are our favourite activities in Malaysia. When the children were small we tended to spend a lot of time in the island resorts of Tioman, Langkawi and Penang.”

…and surely the classic question of what makes for your favourite Malaysian cuisine?

“It is difficult to say which is my favourite Malaysian cuisine. I like Malay coconut rice – nasi lemak – as much as I like the Indian dosai bread dunked in dhall curry. If I have to point to a dish, it would be the nyonya spring rolls – popiah – and that in part is because it is a healthy dish since it consists mainly of vegetables packed into a thin roll made with rice batter and dipped in chilly sauce!”

What’s next on the cards for a writing project?

“I plan to write another novel. I have two ideas and have not decided which I should pursue. I will let you know when I am more certain.”

Further Reading:

i) An extract from Sweet Offerings

ii) An extract from Bitter-Sweet Harvest

Wild Mulberries by Iman Humaydan Younes

Introduction:

A powerful sense of poetic justice fringes the narrator Sarah’s tale, in piquant moments of a an awakened womanhood, much to the reader’s delight as Iman Humaydan Younes offers a deft composition to her 130-page novella, Wild Mulberries (£7.99), layered with tranquil reckonings.

An elegant work of Lebanese fiction, the title would be translated from the Arabic by Michelle Hartman and  published by Arabia Books London in 2010. Younes’s first novel was called B as in Beirut. There are different renditions to the present title’s cover, but photographed here is the intriguing one in my collection.

Now, this story owes its settings to the lull of a 1930s Lebanon when English expatriates and missionaries appeared to hold their respective influences, in a detached polite manner in their dealings with the Lebanese population.  In Wild Mulberries, they excel in an  uneasy truce; playing characters bearing clipped secondary roles as that of a priest, teacher and elderly expatriate couple, but  in a somewhat tragic classical sense,  rather than anything remotely resembling obvious political connotations.

Far from a narration that spells the harsh reminder of a painful history that I have often encountered with translated Arabic literature, Younes strives painstakingly to summon the indefatigable human spirit on behalf of each of her characters, to resurrect them perhaps, to some form of personal redemption, bearing a wounded poet’s heart.

In Wild Mulberries, the author’s quest is to  set off a series of oppressed emotions, seeping off a dysfunctional  family’s  straitlaced rituals and rigid philosophies.  This, onto a carousel of added complexities.  All the while,  rash decisions and puzzling consequences are swung up, with which to snake out the  tale’s eventual hopeful outcome.  Thus, the order of a forgotten time, yet an era ready to herald change,  is reflected as the novel’s dour  melancholy mood throughout.

Story:

Sarah, a young woman of a temperate spirit, lives in an isolated village, Ayn Tahoon,  that  hinges on  various surreal landscapes. Not too far away is the mysterious sea, holding skeletons to her family’s closet. She lives with her grim austere father, a fading sheikh, who prides himself on little else but the art of raising silkworms  and raking up a happy businessman’s profit, with which he has promised his devoted helper, Ibrahim, that in light of a fortune, Ibrahim would find himself betrothed to Sarah’s aunt, a rather cantankeous heavy-bodied woman.  The aunt is worried about the family’s status and that Sarah may well ruin their reputation by following  in the impetuous footsteps of a careless mother’s abandonment of wifely and maternal duties.

Meanwhile, for two months every year before the merchants arrive, the sheikh’s household is transformed into a sprawling nesting ground for  cocoons. The world stops  as the worms thrive.  He is  utterly obsessed and  fastidous  about his occupation turning up as an infuriating bully for his family and reluctant labourers.  Thus, the origin of the title Wild Mulberries.

Sarah is a young woman with a good head on her shoulders. She doesn’t provoke mischief and as  the narration  is itself, drummed up in the first person; dutifully finds her silent place in the household. In various scenes, she wears  thoughtful observations and masquerades the fly on the wall. We are drawn to her thoughts and constantly caressed and moulded by searching questions, as a journey to the novel’s end.

The protagonist is most concerned with her missing mother who abandoned the family 12 years before, with nary a sign or word to anyone in Sarah’s geographical world. Sarah’s mother with her Argentian roots,  is the sheikh’s second wife. She hears rumours that perhaps her father had cheated her mother out of a rightful inheritance. Perhaps, her mother had found a lover, returned to Argentina and there was even suspicion that her real clandestine father may well have been an Englishman.  There were rumours that a gentleman who drowned in the sea had had an affair with her mother.   The answers mill around her head and throughout the novel, Sarah wills herself to find the mother she never knew but desires badly.

Meanwhile, Sarah has to cope with the spinster aunt who is her father’s brother. Her aunt is scornful at her mother for having run away  and calls Sarah, a ‘cursed child’. The aunt nurtures her moments of celebration and subdued joys but as the seasons flee with no sign of a marriage to Ibrahim on the horizon  – the sheikh has tricked them both – becomes increasingly intolerant.  The aunt’s hair turns silver and by now, Sarah is convinced that her longsuffering relative, secretly hates her father.

 Sarah is also adoring of her elder half-brother who pronounces zero patience with his aunt, hates his father and longs to go abroad. Meanwhile he seeks his escapism in ways that do not involve religion. He becomes known as the wayward playboy. There is almost hope as an English schoolteacher falls in love with him. However, his carelessness at guarding a romance ensures through a hasty dramatic episode, that the fragile relationship is forever at an end. He will scream that his father framed him and destroyed his life. Of course, it is old news that the sheikh had no intention of allowing his son to go abroad, in the first place.

There is also a neighbour, a wilful seductive woman Muti’a who adds colour and spunk to the storyline with her candour and sensual mischief. And then there is Karim, Sarah’s brother’s best friend who eventually marries her and removes his bride from the village. But of course, the novel has a way to go yet with its fair share of unavoidable tragedy, resignation, acceptance and because this is clearly Younes’ call… serenity.

Thoughts:

 The literary premise to Wild Mulberries is refreshing and enlightening. Younes draws up a meticulous architecural plan of the family’s haraa (old style Arab house with large long rooms and high ceilings).  She then uses her protagonist Sarah to take the reader on a  leisurely hospitable tour of the rooms and gardens, in what may possibly be an endearing game of blindman’s buff.  Each space and corner holds a separate astonishing personal history, drama and an individual’s nemesis.

In fact, Younes offers this invitation at a fictitious family’s strange legacy, as an interesting approach and inventive structure, with which to begin a novel.

At first, there doesn’t seem to be a plot. Each member of the family plays their ordinary roles, what with  plodding about their daily tasks. There  may be a bit of a giggle here or a touch of consternation there.  Everything moves steadily and quietly with hardly a hint of a leaf wafting about the place.  Suddenly without warning, conflicts arise. In this aspect, the theme of a personal philosophical yearning for identity and freedom, overrides the plot.

It is almost as if the novel is a gentle meandering brook. The water rushes on and the riveted reader – as I was –  is soothed and lulled by its soft sounds.  In an abrupt fashion, there appears to be a strong current. Perhaps there was a storm or a flood. The water becomes violent. There is hint at a nasty disaster.  Still, before long, every ruffled ripple is lullabied to a hushed restoration once again.

 I felt that the novella held a spiritual voice without its sermon. It coaxed perceptions, hanging on to a philosopher’s gentle counselling gait without arrogance. The words to the tale formed a baby,  that Younes herself cradled in her arms. The character Sarah and her accompanying brood were amiable pilgrims, heading into the unknown.

Indeed, they were annoyed at each other at the best of times  and also had to cope with tensed undercurrents featuring racial and religious unrest, from a judgemental society.  Yet, through flaws and hurried decisions, each character yearned a tender absolution to the self.

Wild Mulberries would be excellent for bookclubs with  various ponderings on personal quests that seek freedom and identity in the face of cultural oppression, universal fears and risks. It would also serve as an enchanting introduction into translated Arabic literature, for the enthusiastic reader, craving a plot’s romantic spirit. – susan abraham

  Caption: In albumen print, a young Lebanese woman in festive dress and photographed by The Bonfils Family in Beirut. More details are available from the splendid Frank H. McClung Museum

Further Reading:

a) An interview by Qantara.de with Iman Huymaydan Younes

b) Samir Kassir’s The History of Beirut – Fayard Paris, 2005

c) a magnificent photo gallery depicting Lebanon’s history, that exhibits its scenic landscapes, heritage sites, political and social values, may be viewed at Habeeb.com