This is a book of quiet feminism. It is also an allegory about how notions of beauty and civilization can
endure in a world that periodically descends into barbarism and how
women can persevere in a society that never ceases to devalue them in
both war and peace.
The Beirut of Aaliya, the protagonist in this tale, is a city
caught between the notion of a progressive and cosmopolitan European city and the persistent traditional Muslim notions of what
women's roles should be. At an early age, Aaliya is married off to an
older man. He's stupid and impotent and unworthy of her. After he mercifully divorces her, Aaliya is left with
their spacious apartment, much to the chagrin of her own family, who
thinks she should hand it over to one of her brothers, all of whom bullied her throughout her childhood. She
refuses, never answering the door when they come knocking, and her family hates her for it. So she is alone in the world, sleeping with an AK-47 and comforted by her books.
Aaliya is smart and literary. The book is interspersed with the tragedies that Lebanon has endured over the last 40 years with Aaliya's reading and translating into Arabic a wide variety of classics. She spends much of the book dialoguing with the lives and works of great writers as she
simultaneously recounting the events of her life, from girlhood to
sunset years. Aaliya's taste in literature
is so wonderfully varied that the book never loses momentum, even though
Aaliya herself is the most passive of protagonists.
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